


in any shape or form

by wistering



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Asgardian Loki (Marvel), Canon Divergence - Thor (2011), Fix-It, Jotunn Thor (Marvel), Loki (Marvel) Does What He Wants, Loki (Marvel) Feels, Loki loves his brother any way he can get him, M/M, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Romance, Sibling Incest, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-06-17 01:17:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 36,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15450165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wistering/pseuds/wistering
Summary: Loki wakes up in a world without Thor.Jotunn Thor AU with a dash of canon divergent fix-it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ragnarok and Infinity War killed me. After reading through hundreds of Thorki fics, I decided to try contributing some of my own.

In the scant few moments before Thanos snapped his neck, Loki prayed: _For your sake, brother, I hope I won’t see you again soon._

With his dagger in hand, heritage claimed, and loyalty proven, Loki had done all he could to ensure his death would allow him to pass into Valhalla. It was a gamble, making himself go first - with any luck, Thanos might spare Thor, seeing his despair from losing Loki for the third time. Or perhaps this trick was just another one of Loki’s selfish, self-serving deeds: Loki didn’t think that he could survive seeing his brother die before him. Thor, at least, was used to it.

Loki hoped that Thor lived. There were so few people who could stop Thanos, and if he had to put bets on anyone, well, who better to bet on than his dear older brother?

The worst that could happen, Loki thought, was for Thor to end up dying anyway.

But as always, Loki’s shining plans always broke apart in the most unexpected way possible.

 

When Loki awoke, he had found himself not in a great mead hall full of warriors, but in a quiet and sunny bedroom in Asgard. Books and scrolls laid themselves out in a familiar mess across every surface, and the curtains and linens were dyed a lush green to accent the golden architecture. Loki had risen from the bed and wordlessly slipped to the balcony, where he looked out upon the sight of Asgard’s gleaming domes. It looked as it had been years ago: before Ragnarok, before the attack of the dark elves, before Thor had broken the Bifrost in his battle against Loki. Perfect and shining.

Peaceful.

A place as quiet as this could only be Fólkvangr, land of meadows, a place of rest for the dead.

So Loki had failed to make it into Valhalla. He couldn’t be surprised, really; it’s not as if he wanted to spend the rest of his afterlife drunk and and wagging a sword. But he’d hoped… he had spent so little time with Thor, after their reconciliation. He had wanted a little more time, and the eternity of his afterlife seemed like enough.

But it wasn’t meant to be. Thor, of course, wouldn’t end up in Fólkvangr, as Loki had. Thor would go to Valhalla.

A strange and somber feeling spread out in Loki’s chest. Here he was, in paradise, yet all he felt was the bitter taste of another failure. Loki would never see his brother again.

He stayed there for a while, thoughts churning, his heart shifting over emotions held hidden within its depths; and once he was done, he spun out and left the rooms. Thor might not be here, but Frigga surely was, for she had died to protect Jane Foster and was as worthy as any battle-seasoned warrior.

The halls of Asgard matched his memory perfectly. It felt like an age had passed since Loki has last walked through them peacefully, and in his own skin.

The sight of Asgard now was as if crafted from a spell. The hall was silent, empty save for Loki and his footsteps, and the sunlight shimmered ethereally. It was an ideal world, and would be made perfect when Loki found his mother.

Of course, then it all had to be ruined the moment he set foot outside the wing of his royal chambers. Loki turned the corner which lead to the main hall and immediately came face to face with Sif and the Warriors Three.

Loki stared at them with blank surprise and felt, abruptly, that he wanted to spin right on his heel and march back the way he came, for in no version of his afterlife did he want to end up spending time with this lot. But apparently, they did not feel the same way, for all four of Thor’s lackeys beamed at him.

It was a disturbing sight, seeing that much happiness directed his way. Loki frowned; he was fairly certain he had tossed Sif out of Asgard before Hela had arrived, and the Warriors Three, though certainly dead, were also certainly supposed to be in Valhalla.

“Prince Loki,” Sif greeted, clasping a hand over her chest with a respectful bow, which the Warriors Three also executed - and if _that_ didn’t have Loki raising an eyebrow. “We were just about to look for you. How are you faring?”

Loki stood in silence for a good few seconds, his eyes darting between the various concerned faces in front of him. The most unsettling part of this was that, as far as he could tell, they looked wholly sincere. “I am… doing well,” he said slowly.

“Are you sure?” Fandral stepped forward and clasped a hand on Loki’s shoulder, a wry smile stretched on his mouth. Loki glanced at that hand as if it were a particularly large slug. “You don’t have to hold it in, you know. If you’re nervous, we understand. It’s not every day that you find out you’re going to be King next week.”

Ah, so that’s what this was. Displeased at the sight of Loki, they came to rub in the fact that he had failed his ambitions and ended up dead in a land where he could achieve nothing. “Right,” Loki said, peeling Fandral’s hand off with distaste. “I admit, your acting skills have become remarkably passable. Mind you, just because I’m the power-hungry and illegitimate younger brother of the true heir doesn’t mean I want to grab at every throne I come across. I’m not biting to rule Fólkvangr, of all places.”

Fandral’s smile fell into confusion. “Uh, what?”

“You heard me,” Loki said. “I’m here to life my afterlife peacefully, same as you lot. I’m surprised none of you made it to Valhalla. Thor will be quite displeased to find that none of his loyal lackeys will be joining him when he arrives.”

“Um,” Fandral said. Behind him, Volstagg, Sif, and even Hogun’s expressions grew increasingly alarmed.

“Prince, are you, uh… running a fever, or something?” Volstagg stepped closer and reached out as if to touch Loki’s forehead. Loki batted his hand away.

“No, of course not, oaf. How could I possible have a fever when I’m already dead?”

The moment he said that, Loki finally noticed that his judgment of the situation might, slightly, have been wrong. The warriors gasped, looking various ranges of stricken, as if he had not mentioned the obvious. They reacted the way someone who was alive would react if another clearly living person said that they were dead; namely, like they had just realized the other party was completely out of their mind.

“Just joking, of course,” Loki said, and observed how the four lackeys seemed to settle.

Sif reached out and slapped him on the arm. “I can’t believe you’re still pulling off such mischief. I shudder to think of what you will do as King.”

“Yes, right,” Loki said. “Speaking of Kings, is the Allfather around?”

Sif threw him a dubious look. “Of course,” she said. “Where else would he be, if not Asgard?”

“Oh, you know, perhaps he decided to take a retirement trip to Midgard,” Loki said airily. “Excuse me.” He swept past them and hurried to the main halls of Asgard; wheels were churning in his mind, and he wondered if he’d really, truly gone insane, to imagine an entire world in Fólkvangr with people who should not be here and events that did not happen.

He burst into the main space of the Palace, where all of the nobles, servants, guards and warriors alike mingled, and stared with wide eyes.

It was Asgard - Asgard as it was a decade ago, all of its citizens restored. Loki had much experience with illusions, certainly, and with the kind that fooled memories, as well - but he did not think even his mind could replicate the business of the hall, the sounds of the chatter, the distant strikes of soldiers engaging in battle-training, and there, down the stairs and across the bridge leading out of the palace, Loki saw the distant figures of the common people who inhabited Asgard wandering the city, living their lives as they once did.

Without even realizing it, Loki had walked to the entrance of the palace while staring out at the city. And when he turned around, he saw that a few faces had turned to him. Those nobles and guards and warriors looked at him with clear admiration and friendliness. A few greeted him, “Good day, Prince Loki,” as they passed. Gone were the distrusting expressions, the half-formed sneers and smirks that came from looking at the cowardly seidr-wielding prince, the lying trickster of a Silvertongue.

Loki knew these expressions. These were the eyes with which people once looked upon Thor. This was how people gazed at their favored and future King.

And that was how Loki finally realized that something was surely, terribly wrong.

 

Loki ignored the calls of the Lackeys Four as he stormed back into his rooms, slamming the door shut with a flick of his seidr. He paced wildly across the tile, thinking, twisting, analyzing. He looked up; the room itself was off. It had every mark of belonging to Loki, but Loki recognized the shape and location of these chambers, now: they were Thor’s. As he spun around the room, his eyes locked gazes with his own in the mirror. Loki stalked closer to the mirror and stared.

He looked younger, here. An atmosphere carried by body language: his face held more energy, more liveliness than Loki was used to. It was as if this body had grown immersed in sunlight rather than drowned in shadows; it glowed with the same naive innocence as Thor’s. This was not the bitter, scheming prince that Loki knew himself to be. Loki blinked in the mirror, and as he peered deeper into his own soul, a trickle of memory began to leak.

Loki fell back a few steps and sat heavily on the edge of the bed, a hand reaching up to his forehead as the memories fell through his brain. He remembered running through the halls of Asgard as a child, bright and happy, but alone. He was raised as the Crown Prince, beloved and admired; he was witty and charming, his clever words winning friends and his martial prowess and seidr winning battles. He had never received reason to doubt himself; he was self-assured and confident, and had been expectant of the day he would be crowned King of Asgard.

There had never been a Thor in his world.

Without Thor, Loki had been loved - no, adored by the entire realm. They thought he was the hallmark of what a prince should be, and all of Asgard happily awaited his rise to Kingship.

Holding his head in his hands, Loki steadied his breathing. An entire millenia of of memories had just poured through his brain, every single one of them conflicting with all that Loki knew. If he were not careful, he would lose himself to the flow, and believe himself to be this Loki, this perfect and shining Loki who was a true son of Asgard.

When Loki had calmed, he raised his head and gazed again in the mirror.

Meeting his own eyes, Loki reached deep inside of himself, seeking out the wisp of energy that he had only felt when touching the Casket. Yet as he probed and rummaged through his own soul, his seidr, he felt nothing answering him. His skin remained peachy, his eyes green.

There was a blank moment, as if he were balancing on a precipice, held at the cusp of a great fall. Loki leaped to his feet. He cloaked himself in seidr, obscuring himself from all eyes, and rushed out of his rooms and through the palace. He reached the doors of the treasury; it was child’s play to slip inside them, and his feet carried him to the room of the Casket.

It sat there, the ancient cube of frost and winter. It was silent to him.

Loki remembered, clearly, the siren’s call the Casket sung in his own world: it had been a haunting, distant call which had drawn him closer and closer, even as he knew that a single touch would bring him to death - either because it would inflict frostbite upon him, or because it wouldn’t.

As Loki stood before it now, there was nothing in the air except a chill. The Casket was not his.

And so, Loki discovered a lynchpin which separated this world from his: the Loki of this world was not a Jotun. He was born Aesir. The actual son of Odin and Frigga (barring any other schemes), rightful heir to the throne, and the younger brother of Hela, should she also exist in this place.

Yet that begged the question -

If Loki was the true son of Asgard, then what of Thor?

There was not a single memory of his brother, here. Loki slumped down in a corner of the treasury, his head spinning.

The memories of two worlds continued to mix and mingle. In the yawning of the millenia of memories without Thor, Loki felt a sudden danger: he might forget. Should he fall into these memories, the ones of his world - of his brother - might be lost to him forever.

Loki desperately clung to the memories. If he lost Thor - if he lost all he had - his arrogant, brash, foolish, caring, dear brother - nagging Loki to leave the library to play, comforting him after a nightmare, goading him into going on adventures, foolishly throwing himself into danger, desperately fighting Loki; and later, growing into a steadier man, tempered by loss and the strange lessons of Midgard. Loki carved into his heart the sight of Thor, his brother, his King: his hair shorn, his face one-eyed. When they hugged, his arms had been so warm around Loki, solid and comforting in their strength. After everything - after the battle of Midgard, the loss of their parents, their journey from Sakaar - Loki had finally thought: _I can stay._

And then it all went wrong. Once again, a separation.

Loki curled up on himself, feeling small. This was a world he had wished for, once - an Asgard where Loki was beloved, respected, and set for the throne. Yet he wondered why, without Thor, it only felt broken and incomplete.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Loki had returned to his rooms, seeking solitude and space to think.

He had never heard of souls crossing from one tree of Yggdrasil to another. A soul may pass through other realms on the journey to the afterlife, but there had never been any documentation of a soul appearing in another universe. It was more likely that this situation was some trick meant to trap him. But why, and how? He thought back to his death at Thanos’ hand, the Infinity Gauntlet choking the life out of him. He had seen only the Power and Space Stones, neither of which would allow Thanos to craft an elaborate enough illusion to fool Loki’s senses so fully. There were no sorcerers who could create such a binding, either. Therefore, an illusion was likely not the case.

Assuming Loki really had died, it was possible that this world was merely whatever afterlife Loki had found himself in. It was not as if the dead could truly regale the living with accurate tales of what to expect, after all; maybe everyone went through a place like this, a twisted version of their former life. Yet if this was meant to be the resting place for Loki’s soul, he could not fathom a single reason why he would be left so brutally aware of everything wrong in this place, other than, perhaps, as a punishment. That would be his luck.

The simplest and most illogical explanation was that, in death, Loki’s soul had drifted from his world and into another, one where Loki was born Asgardian. It was absurd, but this was the only explanation which would not have him doubting the world around him as an illusion, the only one that would allow him to retain some sort of sanity.

Given the lack of options, Loki could potentially accept the idea that this world was real, and that his memories had drifted into a parallel version of himself. If this was an alternate reality, then it was also years before everything had gone to Hel. Loki knew of what was to come. Thanos, waiting in the stars, searching out the Infinity Stones. Or if not Thanos, then some other madman, surely - there were too many threads woven by the Norns for this not to be the case. This world may be different from what Loki knew, but there were many areas which were the same - this Loki, too, had heard tales of the death of Titan, the dangers of the Infinity Stones, and the slow winking out of far-off planets. These stark similarities were what warned Loki that this world, like his own, was soon bound for destruction.

That is, unless Loki unwound the weavings of Fate and wrestled the future into his own hands.

  


There was one more thing he had to check before he decided his course.

Loki prided himself on his masks, his ability to goad and deceive. He hid his heart under a million layers of lies and and distractions; that way, no one could touch his true self or use it against him. But Frigga had never been fooled. Even now, all it took was one single look for her to see past all of his shields. She rose from her weaving loom. Loki watched her approach, and she laid a hand on his cheek, her eyes soft and harried with concern.

“Loki, my child,” she said. “What is the matter?”

Loki’s voice stuck in his throat, a painful swallow like glass.

Frigga saw his struggle. She gently took his hands led him to sit at the bench within her weaving room. All around the chamber were her tapestries, beautiful and intricate works which glowed softly with a blessing of seidr. Protection and healing flowed in the air like light.

This was a warmth that Loki had missed. If there was one place he regretted to see destroyed through Ragnarok, it would be this.

Loki gripped his mother’s hands, his head bowed. He said, “I’ve just woken up from a terrible dream.”

Frigga brought one of her hands to caress the back of Loki’s head, a soft and motherly touch that he had missed for many years. He could not help the way he lowered his head to rest upon her shoulder.

“The burdens in your heart are too heavy to bear alone,” she said softly. “Will you not share them with me?”

Loki clutched at her like a lifeline. For too long he had never had anyone to confide in, and now he found himself at a loss. He could not tell her of the horrors that awaited their worlds, or of the agony he had suffered. So he said, “I saw a future that cannot be allowed to happen. I fear that I cannot stop it on my own.”

Frigga continued to soothe his hair. “Is there not someone who can help you?”

Surprise bloomed in Loki’s chest. As the future King of Asgard, Loki would have the entire realm at his beck and call. Anyone else would have reassured him that he was not alone, and that he had all of Asgard’s warriors at his side. Frigga, as always, saw deeper.

Staring down at his lap, Loki prepared himself to ask the question that he did not know if he wanted answered. “Have you ever heard the name Thor?”

He lifted his head to see Frigga’s expression. He was prepared to see any number of things, and what he saw was one he feared: a look of mild thoughtfulness and puzzlement from trying to recall an unfamiliar name.

“No, I do not believe I have,” Frigga said, apologetic. “But if this is someone you wish to find, then we may ask Heimdall to search them out, for he will be able to find any who go by that name.”

“Perhaps,” Loki said, quiet. What he could not say was whether a Thor who was not of Asgard would truly be his Thor at all.

Frigga rested her soothing and wrapped Loki into an embrace. “If all else, I will always be here for you, Loki.”

Loki returned her embrace, shutting his eyes to hide the grief from those words.

  
  


Heimdall stood in the Bifrost, immovable as a statue. The last Loki saw of him was his dead body skewered on the ship, after he had used the last of his energy to send the Beast away. Loki wondered why he had chosen to save Banner over his King, but perhaps Heimdall had seen something that Loki had not.

He gazed at Loki with inscrutable golden eyes. Loki wondered if he had noticed that his Prince was a different person, now, but if he did, he said nothing. Heimdall bowed to him, the perfect picture of loyalty and servility.

“My Prince,” he greeted.

“Heimdall,” Loki returned. “I take it you have heard my conversation with the Queen?”

“My attentions were diverted elsewhere.”

“How noble of you,” Loki said, a trace of anger surfacing from the past, where he had always been kept under watch: there was no privacy, no luxury of comfort in the dungeons of Asgard’s keep. But it was an anger unwarranted for this Heimdall, so Loki quickly amended, “I appreciate it. Thank you.” Loki hesitated for a moment, gathering himself before he asked, “There is someone I want you to find for me.”

“Speak the name. If they are in any of the Nine Realms, I shall find them.”

“Thor.”

Heimdall went silent. He turned his head, his ever-distant gaze searching out across the stars. Loki watched him, his skin feeling tight and his innards roiling. If Thor was not here - or maybe, if he were under another name -

Torturous minutes passed before Heimdall turned back to him and spoke, “I have found three people who carry the name of Thor.”

“What have you seen of them?”

Heimdall lowered his head. “The first is a child born of Alfheim. He is a merchant’s son, a bookish boy who dreams of becoming a scholar in the Elven Palace. The second is a prisoner in Vanaheim. He is a cruel man who was sentenced after his murder of two families, and the kidnapping of their children.”

Loki’s lips had set themselves in a grim line. He bid Heimdall to continue. “And what of the third?”

“The third is a hunter,” Heimdall said. “Strong and brave. He lives on Jotunheim and wanders the icy plains.”

“What else can you see of him? The man on Jotunheim,” Loki asked, staring at Heimdall in a daze. The symmetry, the simplicity - could it really be? If Loki is Aesir, then Thor...

“He is a man taller than you or I, but not as large as most of his kind. He is a powerful warrior and travels alone. The hair on his head is golden, and his skin and eyes are the same as any Jotun’s.”

A golden-haired Jotun. Certainly not like any Loki had seen.

Loki felt frozen. He couldn’t believe it, but at the same time, it felt right. In the madness of his past, he had often cursed Thor for being the golden, perfect son, while Loki was born a monster. He had fantasized, sometimes, about how things would have been if their positions were reversed - if Thor had been born the monstrous Jotun, the stolen war prize, while Loki had been the true heir. When he imagined those scenarios, it had been to revel in the humiliation and shame Thor would feel to know he had been one of those monsters he had sworn to kill all along.

And here, that strange fantasy had come to life: their positions reversed completely. Thor was a Jotun, living on Jotunheim, never having seen Asgard. Loki wondered if Thor, too, was the son of Laufey.

“Thank you, Heimdall,” Loki said, head churning. “Will you show me where I can find him?”

“I can take you to him,” Heimdall said, but Loki shook his head.

“No, I will not take the Bifrost. It must be secret.” A thought of the Warriors Three and Lady Sif flashed across Loki’s mind, and how they doggedly pursued their Prince in search of adventures. He ordered Heimdall, “Tell no one of what I asked, where I am planning to go, or what I am doing. Should anyone ask for my whereabouts, inform them that I have gone to the library in Alfheim in search of rare tomes.”

Heimdall turned his eyes on Loki with a steady look. Loki knew of what must be passing through the Gatekeeper’s mind. The Crown Prince was planning to go into enemy territories by himself and without any backup. It was a foolish, risky plan - for anyone but Loki, who knew this was the only way forward if he were truly going to meet a Jotun Thor.

The Gatekeeper was crafty, and had no qualms in searching for loopholes if he did not agree with the orders, so Loki said, “This is something I must do on my own. I will take every precaution to ensure my safety; if I am in danger and have need of assistance, I will call to you.”

Heimdall considered Loki. After a moment, he finally dipped his head. “Very well, My Prince.” He raised himself up again, and said, “Then I shall show you the location of the Jotun named Thor.”

And with that, Heimdall’s vision burned into Loki’s eyes, and as they flashed gold, he _saw_.

 

The land of Jotunheim was even more miserably cold than the last time Loki had been here. He didn’t realize how it felt to experience such biting cold until now, when he had no Jotun core to protect him from freezing to death. Loki trembled and tugged the furs he’d heaped on himself closer; at least he’d thought to make himself well-prepared. He cast a warming spell and a small barrier to protect him from the winds and flurries of snow, and then set off.

His boots crunched into the thick snow, sinking deep with each step. Damn this Jotun Thor for traveling out to the pits of nowhere. Loki grumbled as he waddled forward, feeling vulnerable in the vast expanse of snow and ice.

The mountain ahead of him was where he had spotted Thor. Besides the blue skin and red eyes, his facial features and body build were remarkably similar to Loki’s brother. Through Heimdall’s eyes, Loki had watched the golden-haired Jotun striding through the ice and snow as if walking on clouds, and Loki couldn’t help but feel annoyance at how now Loki was the one stomping about like a bilgesnipe as he struggled to keep himself from sinking into the snowstorm.

After a great deal of walking, Loki had finally made it to the foot of the mountain. There he saw the mouth of an enormous cave carved into the side of the rock, and as Loki clambered over a hill of snow, he heard, muffled through the gusts of icy winds, the sounds of fighting.

Loki scrambled, faster, to the top of the hill, just in time to see an enormous tusked and icy monster raise its head and bellow - and there, tossed into the air like a rag doll, a blue figure that was tiny in comparison. The figure spun in the air without any control and began plummeting at dangerous speeds.

“Oh you idiotic, thrice damned fool,” Loki cursed, seizing his seidr throwing a spell at Thor to slow his descent. The Jotun still smashed into the snow, a wave of white exploding around him, and whatever gigantic and monstrous beast he had been fighting once again bellowed, enraged. It stampeded forward, each pummel of its legs in the ground causing the plain to shake and snow to shift; Loki fell off-balance and nearly slid back down the hill. The beast was raring to squish Thor like a bug under one of its enormous paws, and Loki snarled.

He rushed forward, calling up an illusion of fire. An enormous wall of green flames burst up in front of Thor’s crater, and the beast reared, slowing its charge. While it was unsettled, Loki took the opportunity to throw some daggers at it. At this distance, they didn’t have enough power to nick its leathery skin, let alone pierce - but the distraction was enough. The beast turned and saw Loki, a dark figure, struggling toward it in the white snow, and it roared, kicking up into another charge.

The beast rushed toward the image of Loki, which had began to run away and slide down the hill; meanwhile, the real Loki had cloaked himself, leaving his illusion to lure the beast away while he ran toward Thor. He dispelled the seidr-fire and found Thor buried in the kicked-up pile of snow, at the end of a person-shaped hole. Loki frantically shoved the snow out of the way to reveal the figure of the Thor-like Jotun: his body was badly mangled, purple blood leaking from open wounds. Loki hissed a curse.

“I am going to _murder_ you,” he muttered, grabbing Thor and hauling the Jotun over his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We found our boy!  
> Feedback, comments, kudos appreciated. ♥


	3. Chapter 3

Thor started to wake while Loki still had his hands half-buried in his guts; when the Jotun groaned, Loki hastened the suturing of the wounds. His seidr worked quickly, Loki’s healing abilities on par with any of Asgard’s healers, but Loki took care to only deal with the most pressing and fatal of injuries. He wasn’t about to use up all of his energy to heal a Jotun back to full health, considering how likely it was for the Jotun to try and assault him, even if he was Thor.

When Thor’s unsettlingly red eyes fluttered open, they looked blearily up at the ceiling of the cave. It took him a moment to focus, and Loki knew exactly when the Jotun registered his presence, because he immediately started drunkenly groping at his side for the ice axe he had been carrying around. The axe sat propped against the wall at the furthest end of the cave, so Loki wished him luck in trying to bash Loki’s head in with it. He looked disdainfully down at the half-delirious Jotun in his grasp and said, “Settle down; you’re still injured.”

“Who are you?” Thor demanded, and oh, his voice really was exactly as Loki’s brother’s. “What have - what have you done to me?”

“Let’s see,” Loki said. “Stopped you from being stomped on and gored, saved you from bleeding out in the snow, and healed you so you won’t die. You’re welcome.” With that, he finished tying up his seidr and took a few steps back. Even with the gloves over his skin protecting him from the frostbite, he didn’t want to keep his limbs too close to an aggressive Jotun’s reach.

Thor groaned, trying to sit up despite the way his limbs were probably feeling like jelly. An unfortunate side effect of one of the spells Loki used, which may or may not require purposeful intent to achieve that effect. Thor did his best to at least prop himself up halfway, and he grumbled, “If you were trying to heal me, you’ve done a crap job of it.”

“ _Excuse_ me? All of your organs are in the right place and your wounds are closed. What do you expect, a massage and pleasant tingles?”

“Well, at least I’m not dead,” Thor muttered, eyeing Loki suspiciously. “And why’d you bother? What do you want from me?”

“Can’t I just be a good, passing-by samaritan?” Loki asked, making the Jotun snort.

“Prince of Asgard, wandering Jotunheim and saving innocents? I’ve heard children tell a story more convincing than that.”

Ah, so Thor knew who Loki was. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. Now that Loki was, essentially, in the original Thor’s place, the Jotuns probably had a poster of his face with a warning: Asgardian Royal, will probably murder you, stay away.

Still, Loki was ever-curious, so he asked: “And what makes you think I’m the Prince of Asgard?”

Thor glared at him balefully. When Loki raised his eyebrows in encouragement, the Jotun eventually grumbled, “Just how many black-haired, green-eyed, and snooty-sounding sorcerers are there, do you think?”

“Snooty?” Loki gaped in offense. Thor would _dare_. “ _Snooty_?”

“Aye.” The Jotun grinned, widely, baring his long and sharp teeth. He had finished hauling himself up and sat atop the makeshift bed Loki had carved out of a chunk of ice. “The way you talk, you know. Gives people a certain image.” And with that, he raised one of his hands from the bed, the ice reforming into a deadly and sharp spear which he instantly lanced at Loki’s head.

“Well,” Loki said. The spear ran straight through Loki’s forehead, which dissipated into smoke. “That’s just plain rude.”

This time, Thor gaped. It gave Loki a small thrill to see his reaction; his Thor was already so used to this trick that it surprised him more when Loki didn’t use it. The Jotun looked around the cave, searching for where Loki must be. Loki gleefully stepped out of the shadows when Thor’s face had turned.

He cleared his throat delicately, and when Thor swiveled his way, spears forming in his hands, Loki made a gesture of peace. “Please, no need to be so hostile. I _did_ just save your life, you know. Or is that how you Jotuns repay your debts?”

“You’re an Aesir; I have no debt to you,” Thor refuted, a stormy expression on his face. He looked at Loki the same way old Thor used to look at Jotuns: like he was staring at an insect at the bottom of his shoe.

“Really?” Loki asked. “So that is the way of the people of Jotunheim, is it? What a shame. I had thought you different from what my father had taught me. But perhaps he was right - that you are only bloodthirsty, hateful monsters who would kill me the second they caught sight of me; that there was no chance of friendship or alliance, even if I were to risk my life to save one of theirs.” Loki shook his head in disappointment.

At those words, a conflicted expression stole across Thor’s face. As Loki hoped, Thor lowered his hands a moment later, the ice spears falling and breaking across the floor.

“No,” Thor said. “We are not monsters. And I am not such an ungrateful wretch that I would kill my own savior. Forgive me.”

“Consider yourself forgiven. Now, lie back down - your fussing has opened up one of your wounds.”

A part of Loki had softened; it was unbelievable that this Jotun, this other world’s Thor was still just as damnably honorable as his brother. But he was glad for it. He didn’t know what he would do if this Thor were nothing more than a savage, bloodthirsty monster - the kind that Loki once thought himself to be.

Though the Jotun looked at him warily, he complied, lying back down on the ice bed which was now missing a few chunks. Loki approached slowly and said, “I will be using my seidr to treat you. Don’t be alarmed, and try not to freeze my fingers off.” Thor watched Loki lay his hands over the open wound on his torso. Green seidr manifested between his fingers as it danced over the skin, knitting it closed.

“You’re not afraid of touching a Jotun?”

“I’m not afraid of you.” Loki snorted. “My first impression is of you flying through the air. What were you thinking, taking on a beast that size by yourself?”

Loki found it hard to believe that Thor, any Thor, would be hard-pressed for company. Yet this Thor remained silent at the question. It was clear that he had no companions, and Loki wondered why.

“So tell me,” he asked instead, “what is that beast, and why are you trying to kill it?”

“It’s the Tanngniost,” Thor replied, “and it’s none of your business.”

Loki had finished healing Thor’s wounds, so he removed his hands. Thor sat up gingerly, looking over his own body as if to check whether Loki had left any gruesome marks on him. When he was satisfied, he moved to stand.

The Jotun Thor was a good head and a half taller than the Aesir version. Loki had to crane his head back just to look at him. He couldn’t help but be a little bitter; of course Thor as a Jotun was taller than Loki as one. Loki supposed he should just be glad that he wasn’t a runt as an Aesir, too.

Thor took a few unsteady steps, but they were large ones; in a few strides, he had already reached the other end of the cave. He hefted his ice axe, and then he paused, turning his head to look at Loki over his shoulder.

“Thank you for your help,” Thor said, out of politeness, more than anything. “But this is where we part ways. I know not why you are here, Prince of Asgard, but you’d best return to your realm soon. Others of my kind would not take kindly to your presence here.” When he finished speaking, he walked out of the cave and back into the blistering snowstorm.

Loki, of course, wouldn’t let him go just like that. “Luckily for me there aren’t any others around,” he called out, traipsing after Thor. He grimaced when he exited the cave; the winds were fierce, here, and his hair suffered even underneath the hood of his cloak.

Loki crunched inelegantly through the snow, the sound loud and disturbing. _Crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch._ He might have, just a bit, stepped a little more obnoxiously than usual, and used a spell to enhance the sound of his footsteps so that they drilled into the ears of the silent creature in front of him.

As he hoped, Thor eventually slowed down and looked back in exasperation at Loki, who noisily trailed after him like a rather sad and clumsy duckling.

“Why are you following me?” he asked. “Go home.”

“Well, I couldn’t help but notice you’re walking back in the direction of the beast that so recently mauled you,” Loki said. “I was wondering if you were thinking of trying for a second round, and if so, then I wanted to get a closer look at your attempt to fly into Jotunheim’s orbit.”

Thor glared at him, giving Loki time to amble a little closer; and when he realized that Loki seemed set on following him, he turned and swiftly power-walked through the snow, meaning to ditch him.

“Oh, you are so _naive_ ,” Loki murmured smugly.

  
  
  
  


By the time Thor made it back to the lair of the Tanngniost, Loki was already waiting for him.

He stared. Loki stared back. Then Loki smiled cheerily, and he said, “Well, isn’t _this_ exciting? What an _unexpected_ place for us to meet again.”

“How did you - nevermind,” Thor said, heaving a guttural sigh. He glared at Loki and growled, “Don’t get in my way,” and strode past toward the cave.

“Ah-ah-ah, wait just a minute,” Loki said, hurrying forward to cut him off. Thor ignored him. “You can’t possibly be thinking of fighting this thing by yourself, again? You saw what happened the last time. You were five seconds away from - well, I don’t know what the Jotun equivalent of Valhalla is, but believe me: you were very close to being there. And now that you’re injured, going at it for a second try is not going to be pretty.”

“Do you ever shut up?”

“When I’m not trying to convince bullheaded Jotuns of my help, yes.”

Thor stopped and spun around. He pointed at Loki. “You.” Loki raised an eyebrow. “ _You_ want to help me?”

“Yes, why not?” Loki said. “I’m already here, and this seems as exciting as any adventure. Besides, you might actually have a chance when you have one of the most powerful sorcerers in all the realms on your side.”

Thor glared at him with a baleful eye, but Loki saw that beneath that was a glimmer of grudging consideration.

Eventually, he uttered, “Fine.”

“Excellent,” Loki said. “Now, tell me: what exactly are we trying to do here?”

Thor looked back toward the lair of the Tanngniost, and walked down the slope so that he was out of sight. Loki followed him. “It is not the Tanngniost I am hunting, but one of the treasures within its lair. It is said that within the dwelling of the Tanngniost is a garden, which the beast protects fiercely. Within that garden should be an herb known as the iceroot.”

“Iceroot? I’ve never heard of it.”

“I’m not surprised,” Thor said, his brow lowering in displeasure. “It has no use for Asgardians. It was so common that no one realized how important it was until it was gone.”

“I see,” Loki said, carefully neutral. Without the Casket, everything in Jotunheim was dying, even the common grasses. Loki considered Thor, now, and gazed up at the Jotun’s face. He was serious and solemn; nothing like the arrogant and entitled fool that his Thor had been at this age. No, this Thor knew what it meant to suffer, and he knew how to concede when he needed to. So Loki tentatively offered, “I have a plan which might bring us to your ultimate goal, though it would not be a thing you could boast about for glory.”

“Tell me,” Jotun Thor said immediately. “I’m not doing this for glory.”

Loki looked at him in surprise, and then he smiled. He _liked_ this Thor. “Well, then. For you, it’s just a matter of walking in, grabbing the herb, and walking out - simple as that.” He spread his hands wide. “The Tanngniost is a simple beast and can’t see past my illusions. I can cause a distraction and lure it out while you go in and grab what you need.”

Thor stared at him. Then he loomed over Loki, faster than Loki thought possible for his size. “You can do that? You can really - will that work?”

“Yes, it will.” Loki smirked up Thor, relishing in the awe in the other’s face. “And I can prove it to you.”

  
  
  
  
  


True to Loki’s word, the retrieval of the iceroot took only a matter of minutes. He sent an illusion of Thor and himself to provoke the beast, and had them run around outside the cave while Thor snuck in to grab the herbs. When he returned with a full bag, he and Loki fled the scene, the very image of two successful robbers.

“It worked,” Thor raved, when they were a good distance away. They walked together through the snow. Loki wasn’t sure what direction they had gone - it was all snowy hills and mountains and ice to him - so he just followed wherever Thor led. “It worked!” Thor laughed, a boisterous and happy sound that was so like Loki’s Thor that he felt a sudden pain in his chest - he had not heard Thor laugh in such a carefree manner in a long time.

“Of course it worked,” Loki said, trying to smother the ache; he pulled a mask of smugness over himself. “It was my plan, after all.”

“ _Thank you_ ,” Thor said in an earnest rush, and he was grinning at Loki; though his eyes were bright red and his teeth were sharp, Loki found that he enjoyed the expression. But then Thor seemed to realize who he was talking to, and his carefree appearance slowly faded. A stiffness entered Thor, and he said while looking at Loki, “I appreciate what you have done for me, Son of Asgard…” and then he seemed to hesitate, not knowing what else to say.

Loki could tell that he probably didn’t want to go gallivanting about Jotunheim with the Asgardian Prince at his hip, but it would be a little too awkward for him to tell Loki to fuck off. So Loki, of course, ignored his wishes entirely. “It’s no problem at all; I enjoyed our quest together. And by the way, I think that we’re past the point of such formality, don’t you? Call me by my name, Loki. Son of Odin.” He looked expectantly at Thor; they had never introduced themselves, so he waited for the Jotun to give his name.

Thor gazed at him, and then he said in a low voice, “Alright, Loki. I am Thor of Jotunheim.”

Thor’s shoulders were tight. Loki noticed, but did not call attention to the fact that Thor had introduced himself without a patronymic, or even a matronymic - he merely said, “So. Now that we have the herb, where are we going next?”

“ _‘We’_?”

“I’ve come with you this far. I want to see this through to the end. You aren’t going to abandon me now, are you, Thor?” Loki smiled at the mildly pained expression on Thor’s face.

“I’ll be going to a village,” Thor said. “If they see you - _you_ , of all Asgardians - you know what will happen?”

“They’ll attack me, and savage my body as revenge for what my father has wrought them?”

“What? No!” Thor sputtered, half in outrage and half in anger. “No, they’re going to be frightened to death, and they’ll all run and hide because they fear that if anyone touches a single hair on your head, your father will come to strike up another war!”

“Ah,” Loki said. For once, he was honestly caught off-guard. But when he thought about it, he supposed this was reasonable - the last time he was here, Thor had gone straight to Laufey’s Palace. Any of the giants they met were likely warriors and guards. A village would be a place with civilians - elderly, women and children. They would not know how to fight back against a bloodthirsty prince. Were there farmers, Loki wondered, or blacksmiths or fursmiths, among the Jotuns?

If he wanted to accompany Thor, he could not do so in his current form. Loki thought of his options. There was one he could use - it was distasteful, and, frankly, in the past, he would have rather died than do it. But now, seeing this Thor before him - a _Jotun_ , blue-skinned and just as foolish but earnest as ever, Loki thought that it might not be as terrible as he’d thought.

So Loki said, “Then, how about this?” and cast a glamour over himself.

It was not a shapeshift that covered his skin in blue, drew the lines of heritage marks over his skin, and made his eyes a bright red. The horns which sprouted from his forehead were not real. He was Aesir, and the cold still felt as blisteringly insufferable as ever. But with his magic, he now looked every bit a Jotun - the kind of Jotun he would have been in his past world.

When he was done casting the glamour, Loki’s heart pounded in his chest. He had never - shown himself like this, to anyone. He had only looked at himself once in Jotun form, and he’d been disgusted by what he’d seen. So when he brought his eyes to look at Thor’s, half of him feared that it would confirm what he’d always thought: that Loki in his Jotun form was monstrous, a being so appalling that even the Jotuns would rather throw him away.

Instead, he found Thor gaping at him, eyes wide. His mouth hung open, and when Loki raised an elegant eyebrow, Thor’s mouth shut with a snap, and he swallowed.

“Uh,” Thor said.

“Well?” Loki prodded. “Do I not look like a Jotun?”

“You, you, uh, you look,” Thor fumbled. “You’re - you do look like a Jotun.”

“Wonderful,” Loki drawled. He knew that, obviously. “Then there shouldn’t be any problem, correct?”

Thor was still staring at him. Loki raised a hand and snapped his fingers in front of his face. Thor jolted. “Uh - I mean - it’s - it’s a good try, but Jotun do not wear so many layers. All those furs, the cape, the - the pants. You dress as an Asgardian does.”

“Alright,” Loki said, easily. He peered at Thor’s fashion; Loki would never, ever, consent to walking around shirtless and pantless and dressed in a loincloth. So he made some small adjustments to his glamour: he hid his armor and furs, casting an illusion of bare legs and arms, but he kept his hooded cloak so that he could hide his face, if need be. “Is that all?”

“Your heritage marks,” Thor said quietly.

“Ah.” His marks pronounced him the son of Laufey. It would be overly suspicious for a new get of the King to be found wandering the realm, to be sure. Loki peered now at the marks drawn over Thor’s body; they were not the same as Loki’s. So Thor was not a prince in this world, after all. Loki once again adjusted his glamour, this time changing his marks into the ones on Thor’s body. When he was done, he smiled up at Thor, who seemed dazed.

“Look, now we match!” Loki bared his teeth in a sharp grin. “When we have the same marks, it makes us seem as if we’re brothers, doesn’t it?”

“ _Brothers_ ,” Thor said faintly.

“In fact, why don’t we make that our cover,” Loki said. “You can’t call me by name in front of your fellow Jotuns; they would know who I was immediately. So instead, you can just call me brother.” He beamed up at Thor, who looked somewhat pained. “I feel good about this; don’t you, Thor?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Thor, I really do.  
> I'm writing and posting as I go along. Feedback, comments, and kudos are super appreciated! ♥


	4. Chapter 4

The travel across Jotunheim spanned a good number of days; Loki wasn’t sure exactly how many, given that the sun did not rise and set all that visibly on Jotunheim. It was long enough that the Asgardians had surely noticed the disappearance of their Crown Prince by now, and Loki wondered how many days were left until his supposed coronation. It would be quite the scandal if he missed it, and Loki found himself hoping he did.

There would be no point in ruling Asgard, tied down to the throne and the realm, without having secured Thor by his side. Loki was sure, now, that this hulking Jotun beside him was his brother in another form, and he wanted to see just how deeply the similarities in their souls ran. So Loki accompanied Thor across the vast and empty plains of the Jotunheim wastes. Eventually they entered what must have been the more populated region: the change was marked by the appearance of ruins carved from stone and ice - collapsed buildings, broken spires, half-formed arches. These places were abandoned and partially buried by the snow that continued to fall.

The village that Thor led him to looked no different, at first - it was empty, with no signs of life as far as Loki could see. Yet Thor was undisturbed; as he and Loki stood at the perimeter of the village, he turned to Loki and said, “Wait here.”

“And why should I do that?” Loki asked, his gaze sweeping across the humble and broken structures of ice and rock. He did not see a single sign of life; if there were Jotuns in this village, they were in hiding.

“They won’t take kindly to you. Trust me, it’s better for you to stay here.”

“Pity that I don’t always do what’s best for anyone.”

Thor heaved a sigh. He scrutinized Loki, likely weighing the consequences of bringing Loki or leaving Loki here, unattended, and finally conceded: “Fine. But don’t say a word.”

He and Loki walked together into the village. Loki had the sense of being watched, but no one came to greet them. Thor went straight to the step of a hut that looked rather pathetic in size and shape; it was lopsided, the crudely-carved doorway covered by a block of ice propped against it. Yet it was still larger than Thor and Loki combined.

“Huldr!” Thor called out. “I have returned with the iceroot.”

A moment passed. Then, the ice sheet covering the doorway moved, a slow and heavy scraping sound. It was shifted to the side only slightly, leaving only a small gap between the ice and the doorway. Loki peeked inside - it was difficult to see in the darkness, but he made out the rough image of a humble room. He caught a glimpse of what might have been a Jotun’s bed, and a small figure laying prone upon it, but whatever else he might find was quickly obscured by the shadow of a figure. From the gap in the doorway emerged a large and clawed hand - its palm was nearly the width of Loki’s torso, and the skin on this hand was mostly blue, but with spots of grey and white which seemed to be chipping off like shards of ice.

Thor retrieved his bag of iceroot and placed it in the waiting hand. The hand retreated into the hut, and a moment later, a roughened and elderly voice croaked, “What is that with you?”

Thor tensed, a minuscule tightening of his muscles. Loki cast a glance at him, and after seeing Thor’s grimace, Loki spoke up: “I’m his brother.”

Thor’s head whipped toward him, and Loki found that he couldn’t read whatever emotion had flickered over his face. A creaking, grotesque laugh sounded from the door. It wielded an edge of mocking. “A family of runts.” The laughing tapered out, and the voice said, coldly, “Now go, _uønsket_.”

And that was all. The doorway scraped closed once more. Thor turned and motioned for Loki to follow; they marched out of the village.

  
  
  


When they were a distance away, Loki peeked at Thor’s expression. It was closed and unreadable in a way that he had never seen. “Well, that was rather anticlimactic,” Loki broached. “You went through all that trouble - in fact, you nearly died to get that herb, but in the end, you didn’t even receive a single word of thanks.”

“I didn’t expect to be thanked.” Thor’s tone was clipped. He didn’t want to talk about it.

“Well, you must have expected _something_ ,” Loki pressed. “Why else would you have done it?”

“I am not like _you_ , Asgardian. I don’t expect feasts in my honor and accolades from every direction after I perform a task.”

“Well, even so - a simple ‘thank you’ isn’t too much to ask for. Whoever you handed the iceroot to didn’t even come out to meet you.”

“Of course she didn’t,” Thor said, a dark undercurrent in his voice. “It would have been bad luck.”

“What do you mean by that?” Loki asked, staring at Thor. The Jotun’s entire body screamed of tension and anger, his shoulders hunched as if bearing an invisible burden. Thor remained silent. He trudged through the snow, his pace quick, forcing Loki to run after him.

“Why would it be bad luck?” Loki repeated, when he had caught up. A flash of memory and intuition played before his mind; he asked, “Is it because you’re--”

“Because I am a runt!” Thor roared, spinning around and cutting off Loki before he could say it. “A Jotun runt, too small and weak to be a man. I was thrown away when I was born, never claimed by anyone, because my very existence is a shame to my people!” He snarled at Loki, “She could not come out to meet me because that would mean acknowledging my existence and humiliating herself! Does that answer your question, Asgardian?”

He stormed off again. Loki stared, mindblown, at the Jotun’s retreating back.

“Wait,” Loki called. “Wait. Wait, Thor.” He raced after Thor, but the Jotun was too fast, and Loki couldn’t catch up.

The snow continued to fly before his eyes, and Thor was slowly disappearing into the storm. He was fading out of Loki’s sight, sinking into the snow and ice. Without meaning to, Loki cried out, “ _Brother_!”

Thor stopped in his tracks.

The Jotun turned. In a few strides he was in front of Loki, his enormous hand seizing Loki’s cloak and hauling him up. Loki dangled in Thor’s grasp like a rag doll as the Jotun spat, “Do _not_ call me that, _Asgardian_. Do not claim me that way. You know nothing of what it means. I may be the worst of my people, but I am still a Jotun. You, who destroyed my home and slaughtered my people - _I am not your brother_.”

His chest was heaving. As much as Thor was angry, he was also in pain; his red eyes were rimmed with tears.

The more Loki looked into them, the more he saw what wound Thor had been trying to hide. It was one Loki knew well. Thor was hurt because Loki dangled in front of him the things he could never have: someone who accepted him, someone who would love him. Thor was outcast, left to wander alone in this wide world of Jotunheim. His people could barely bring themselves to speak to him. He was a lesser being, and no matter how many good deeds he did, or how courageous and strong he was, he would never be considered their equal.

Even in a world where no one believed in him, Thor was still fighting to be a good man.

Loki’s throat hitched. His fingers curled, and he closed his eyes to hide himself from Thor’s gaze. But Thor must have interpreted his actions differently; the pull around Loki’s neck lessened, and suddenly Loki found himself collapsed in the snow.

“You have had your fun,” Thor said, his face turned away. “But it is time for you to go.”

Loki dug himself out of the snow, and seeing Thor about to leave, he lunged forward and grabbed the Jotun’s arm. “No. Do not-” Thor growled, but Loki did not relinquish his hold. “Do not go just yet.”

“What is it? What more do you want?”

Loki felt the anger pulsing through Thor’s veins. He licked his lips, and he thought; he thought of all the things he had wanted Thor to say, when Loki had been at his worst; the things Thor had never understood as necessary to say. When Loki looked up again, he sought out Thor’s eyes, and as he looked into those foreign and frightening red irises which held so much loneliness and self-doubt, he found the words he needed: “You are not the worst of your people. No, I would say that you are the best of them. You are courageous and kind, and I am honored to have met you, for you have changed the way I think of your people and your realm. In fact, I am _proud_ to know you, for you are a good and honorable man, and though I have met many people of all kinds throughout all the realms, none have I met that were as full of heart as you.”

Thor was staring at him, now, and his red eyes were hazed and swimming, but he would not so easily accept these praises, not when they went against everything he thought of himself. Thor turned away, his voice gruff: “Those are big words for someone you’ve only met some days ago. You know nothing of me, Loki.”

“I’ve seen enough to know what kind of person you are,” Loki said. “You are one who would journey alone into a barren wasteland, risking your life to battle a ferocious beast, not even expecting any praise or glory, no reward and not even thanks - all so that you could save the life of a child.” At this, Thor paused, and Loki continued, “Because that’s what this was, wasn’t it? The old woman we met was suffering from an illness, and there was a child, there, who was probably suffering even worse. The child would have died unless someone helped them, and found the iceroot - and so you did.”

Loki stepped closer, circling around Thor. He saw the Jotun swallow, faced turned to the ground.

Loki said softly, “Even if those villagers wanted to pay, they couldn’t. Because they had nothing. They were too poor, and no one would help them. Except for you.”

“So what,” Thor said thickly. “So I saved a child. Anyone would have done that.”

“No,” Loki said, “not everyone would. You know that. And they know that, too. But if whatever strange Jotnar discrimination prevents them from giving you the recognition you deserve, then I will do it for them. So, Thor.” Loki stopped in front of him. From here, he could see Thor’s face, and Thor could see his. “Thank you. For saving that child’s life.”

Thor looked as if his soul had been cracked open. His eyes darted over Loki’s face as if searching for a lie, but Loki had been entirely sincere. Though it was true that Loki barely knew the Jotun before him, Loki had seen enough to know that this man would grow to be just as fine of a hero and leader as his brother.

This Thor might not be a prince, and he might not be Asgardian, but Loki saw in him the same golden core that Loki had always envied and loved. And Loki would not let this be buried within Jotunheim’s wastes.

“Thor,” Loki said. “Tell me. That illness - was it always fatal?”

Thor was still off-balance; he blinked and looked at Loki. “No,” he said. “It is - just a simple disease, one that is normally mild in children and elderly. It was always easy to obtain a cure. Until…”

Until the Casket was stolen. Until everything in the land began to die out.

The death of the land of Jotunheim was slow but sure. When the realm deteriorated, its people suffered. Illnesses ran deeper, cures became scarce. As the people became desperate to survive, culture and progress fell to the wayside, and the entire civilization crumbled.

Loki had been taught for years that the Jotuns were savages and monsters, and when he first saw them, they had only confirmed his thoughts. But what choice did they have other than to be cruel, when they saw before them the oppressors who caused their people to perish?

That was why the Jotuns had been so desperate to take back the Casket. It was their one hope of restoring their world and bringing life back to Jotunheim.

“There must be many more children suffering from this illness,” Loki said, a gentle lull in his voice. “It must be painful to know that there is not enough iceroot in the realm to save all of them.”

“It is,” Thor choked. “But if I could - if only-”

“What would you do, Thor?” Loki asked. “Would you save the entire realm if you could?”

“Yes,” Thor said. “I would do anything to help my people. To see them happy and proud, no longer sick and no longer starving.”

“But why? These people have cast you aside. They do not acknowledge you. Would you truly go to any lengths for them?”

“I would. It does not matter what they think of me. What matters is what I feel for this realm, my home. I love my home. I would see it prosper.” Thor looked up, then, and a wry twist at his mouth. “But I suppose it does not matter. A single Jotun such as I cannot do anything about it.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Loki said. “Did you forget who you’re speaking to?” He let his Jotun glamour slip away, and standing before Thor in his original Aesir appearance, Loki spread his hands, a wide smile on his face. “I am the Crown Prince of Asgard, soon to be King. And I am willing to return to Jotunheim the Casket of Ancient Winters… on one condition.” Loki tilted his head. “If you were speaking the truth, that you would do _anything_ to restore your realm - then it will be yours.”

Thor gaped at Loki, the disbelief warring with hope. “You cannot be serious,” he said, half-questioning.

“I am serious,” Loki said. “And I shall tell you that what I need in exchange for the Casket is something that is worth far more to me. Do you know, Thor, why I came to Jotunheim?”

Loki began pacing through the snow, Thor’s eyes riveted to him. “No, I do not,” the Jotun said.

“Did you not find it strange that I would show up in the most barren lands of this realm, where there was nothing of note, no people around - besides you?”

“Get to the point, Loki.”

“The truth is that I was looking for someone,” Loki said. “I have seen the future of our worlds, a - vision, you might say, of what is to come. There are dangers approaching which will spell out the end of our realms. Asgard will fall; Midgard will be slaughtered. Distant planets beyond our realms are, even now, slowly winking out. He who seeks to balance the universe will end up destroying it, and all will be lost.” Loki stopped his pacing, and he looked at Thor. “I have seen these things,” he said softly, “but I cannot stop them alone. I am no hero, Thor. It is not my way to stand before others and lead them to victory. No, what I needed was a champion. A companion who would fight with me against this grim future, who would have the determination to save the entire universe from destruction. I need a _hero_ , Thor. I need _you_.” Thor’s eyes were wide. Loki took a breath. “And I found you,” he said. He stepped closer to Thor and raised his head. “That is what I ask in exchange for the Casket. Your life, and your loyalty.”

“You’re mad,” Thor said.

There was a short silence. The wind blew gusts and snow. Loki looked expectantly at Thor, but Thor just shook his head.

“You can’t be serious. That is - _insane_.”

“Oh, which part?” Loki asked. “The part where our worlds are going to die, or the part where I was searching specifically for you, or the part where all you need to do to win back the Casket is pledge your undying fidelity to me?”

“How about _all three_.”

“Pity,” Loki said. “If you don’t want to take this seriously, then I suppose the Casket stays on Asgard, where it shall rot in our treasury for all eternity.” He turned to walk off.

“Wait, Loki!” Thor came up behind him. “Wait. Hold on. Alright, let’s say - let’s say I believe you, and there’s some great danger to our universe coming. Why would you need me? What do I have that is so important that you’d be willing to give up the Casket for it?”

“Did I not just tell you this?” Loki snapped. “Your heroism. Your good heart. _You_ \- there is simply _no one else_ other than you whom I could trust with this. So it doesn’t matter how many treasures it would take to have you, because you are worth more than any of them.”

Thor’s mouth fell open, and his eyes turned disgustingly gooey at these words. He let out a soft ‘Oh’ as he stared at Loki, who flushed.

“What?” he sniped. “If you only knew what you were capable of, you wouldn’t be so surprised.”

Thor continued to gaze at him. Loki suffered his scrutiny, a scowl on his face; if this didn’t work, he would have to find some other way to convince Thor, or maybe threats would do it--

“Alright,” Thor said. “But before I pledge to you, you have to give me the Casket, first.”

All at once, Loki’s shoulders lost their tension.

He looked up at Thor, who had a determined set to his face. A smile played across Loki’s lips. “Very well, we can deal with the Casket first,” Loki said. “Just so long as you’re willing to come with me to fetch it yourself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback, comments, kudos appreciated as always! \o/  
> The word Thor was called by the elderly Jotun, _uønsket_ , is google-translate Norwegian for 'unwanted'.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's tough to find time to write on the weekdays!  
> I watched the Team Thor shorts several times while writing this. There's so much dialogue in this story, but I hope it's interesting dialogue, at least :)

“Asgard is nearly before us,” Loki said.

He guided Thor through the secret and winding paths of Yggdrasil, taking the road which led from Jotunheim into the depths of Asgard. All around them was nothing and everything, emptiness and infinity. They traveled the seams between the vastness of space, a place that could hardly be understood by anyone without seidr. The minute they entered the rift, Thor was forced to shut his eyes and tightly grip Loki’s cloak, lest the sight of all the universe overwhelm him.

Thor made a pained grumble of acknowledgement, and Loki smiled. This was why his brother rarely ever allowed Loki to bring him along the secret paths - he always got ‘rift-sick’, as he called it.

The time it took to traverse the roads was always variable, for the universe was ever-shifting. The path from Jotunheim to Asgard could take as little as fifteen seconds to as long as two days, and they were lucky that on this occasion, the journey lasted only for twenty minutes.

The rift opened in a back alley courtyard of Asgard, between a chicken coop and the rear ends of a set of rowhouses. An old woman sat on a stool, spinning her wheel in the shadows. She looked up at Loki, her grizzled face bearing as many wrinkles as the bark of an oak tree, and her eyes pale with cataracts. Her expression was set in a constant sneer, even as Loki smiled at her and said, “Greetings, Elli. A pleasant day in Asgard, isn’t it?”

“You are late for your coronation.” The old woman snapped a piece of yarn and tossed it aside. “Bah! The air is too cold. Didn’t your mother ever teach you to shut the door behind you?”

“Of course. My apologies,” Loki said smoothly. He turned and beckoned to Thor, who had squashed himself to a pole as if it would help disguise him. Thor shook his head and gestured violently at Elli, who continued spinning her wheel, seemingly unaware of the world around her. Loki sighed and walked forward to pick up the loose piece of yarn. Elli did not react at all, and Loki beckoned Thor again. This time, Thor stepped forward hesitantly, his bulky frame crowding the back alley.

Loki reached for Thor’s hand and tied the yarn around his left wrist. As Loki ran his fingers down the string, lips silently forming incantations, the beige string shimmered and dyed to green and gold. The working locked into place with a glow, and Loki stepped back, satisfied.

“Alright. We’re now invisible and silent to everyone but each other. Let’s go.”

Thor did not even have a moment to admire the string around his left hand, for Loki immediately set off. The two of them walked peacefully through the streets of Asgard, none of the citizens any wiser that among them walked the Prince of Asgard and a Jotun. Thor looked around the streets with awe and no small degree of apprehension, especially when they brushed past the patrolling guards. The nearer they came to the palace, the more Thor radiated tension; but Loki was not worried.

“The Vault lies at the center of the Palace,” Loki said. “We’ll go there and retrieve the Casket, after which you shall return it to Jotunheim. When that is done, you shall pledge yourself to me and accompany me wherever I may go throughout the realms.” As they set foot before the enormous gates of Asgard’s palace, Loki slanted a look at Thor, who looked so stiff that he may as well have been a block of ice. “What that means is that this place, my home, shall soon be yours as well, so there’s no need to look as if the doors themselves will devour you.”

“Forgive me,” Thor muttered, face tight, “for being _nervous_ about trespassing into the heart of Asgard and stealing from the Allfather’s vault.”

“It’s not stealing,” Loki protested. “It’s reappropriating. Retrieving.”

“Yes, and I’m sure your father will think so too when he finds out.”

“Ah, well, we’ll worry about that later,” Loki said, striding past the guards and into the Palace. “Come, this way.”

He brought Thor along the path to the very center of the Palace. Several members of Einherjar stood guard along every corner, but they were not trained to see past Loki’s seidr. When Loki and Thor finally arrived at the doors to the Vault, they found two Einherjar standing watch. Loki simply walked up to them and touched his hands to their faces, sending them both into sleep.

Loki opened the doors to the Vault. When he turned to beckon Thor, he found the Jotun staring down at the two collapsed guards. “This all seems rather treacherous,” Thor said.

“Oh, no, this is just a normal Tuesday afternoon here in the Asgardian Palace,” Loki said.

Thor looked up, expression flat, but he followed Loki into the Vault anyway.

The Vault was filled with weapons and trinkets of all sorts: a fake Infinity Gauntlet, the sword of Tyrfing, the shield of Svalinn. The Loki of this universe had been here before, but he did not know to look for what Loki sought out now.

Loki walked carefully through the room, observing the treasures Odin had hidden.

There at the very back of the hall was the enormous corpse of the wolf Fenris, Hela’s pet. In front of it was the basin for the Eternal Flame, a sight which brought unpleasant memories to Loki’s mind. One of the trophy places was empty, and Loki knew that it was meant for the Tesseract.

A scuffle sounded in the room. Loki turned and saw Thor leaning over, a thoughtful frown on his face. When Loki edged closer, he found that what had caught Thor’s attention was Mjolnir, which sat lonely on its pedestal.

Loki gazed at Thor, blue and Jotun, and Mjolnir. His eyes darted to the side for a moment, and then he reached out, putting a hand on Thor’s left wrist. Thor jolted at the touch, knocked out of his contemplation of Mjolnir.

“Do you know what that is?” Loki asked.

Thor looked up at him, unimpressed. “It’s a hammer.”

“Not _just_ a hammer,” Loki said, exasperated. “Try touching it.”

“Why?” Thor was suspicious, looking between Loki and the hammer. “Is it going to do something to me?”

“The worst that will happen is nothing.”

“Then why don’t _you_ do it?”

“Because I _know_ what will happen,” Loki said, crossing his arms. “ _Nothing_.”

Thor turned observant eyes on Loki, and something he saw must have convinced him, for he said, “Fine.” Thor reached out and wrapped his hand around Mjolnir’s shaft, his blue Jotun hand engulfing half of it. He easily lifted Mjolnir from the pedestal, and the mighty hammer looked nothing more than a child’s toy compared to the proportion of Thor’s larger body.

Thor blinked and rotated the hammer around to look at it from various angles; then he frowned and said, “Well, I guess you were right. Seems like nothing happened.” He set Mjolnir down on the pedestal, a sharp metallic ring resounding in the room.

“Actually, that was the thing,” Loki drawled. He brushed past Thor to walk to the adjoining room of the Vault. After a moment, Thor followed.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll find out later,” Loki said. “Look there. The Casket is before you.”

Thor stopped in his tracks. The Casket of Ancient Winters sat in its place at the end of the room, the blue mist circling within the cube.

Loki approached it, and when he looked back at Thor, the Jotun also came closer. The two of them stood before the pedestal, side-by-side, gazing into the crystalline surface. To Loki, this Casket had been his curse, but to Thor, it was salvation. “As you well know, only a Jotun may touch the Casket and live,” he said. “So it is yours to take, and yours to keep.”

“A very generous offer you are giving him,” a voice called.

Loki and Thor spun around, a look of absolute horror on Thor’s face. The Allfather stood at the doorway, Gungnir in hand, ever-intimidating in his full royal attire. His eye roamed the room, touching upon Thor and fixing upon Loki. Thor glanced down in brief panic toward the yarn bracelet on his wrist, which was now a lifeless beige.

“Ah,” Loki said. “Father. Fancy seeing you here.” He took a step forward, putting himself in front of Thor, and spread his hands genially. “It’s a nice day for admiring the palace decor, isn't it?”

“Loki,” Odin said, all the weight of a lifetime’s disappointment held within the word. “What are you doing?”

“What does it _look_ like?”

“Treason,” Odin said. “One I do not understand. You shirked your coronation, left to Jotunheim, and returned to steal the Casket.”

“Well, that's certainly _one_ way of looking at it,” Loki said with a shrug, heedless of the way Thor looked at him in wordless plea. “I prefer to see it as preemptively fulfilling the oaths I would swear upon becoming King of Asgard.”

“That oath is to safeguard and protect the Nine Realms. You would do so by returning a weapon to those who would use it to wreak havoc and war upon innocents?”

“Come now, Allfather, you know as well as I that the Casket is no mere weapon. The people of Jotunheim are dying, and-”

“And I know that you are not doing this out of altruism and a sudden sympathy for the Jotnar,” Odin said. He turned his piercing eye on Thor, Gungnir shifting in his hand. Loki’s gaze flickered toward the alcove in which the Destroyer stood inert. “And who,” Odin asked, “are you?”

“He is my-”

Odin raised a hand, cutting Loki off. “Let him speak.”

Behind Loki, Thor's eyes were bouncing between Odin and Loki. Though he was larger than the both of them, he looked no more threatening than a lost child beneath both of their gazes. Loki thought he should be offended that Thor reacted with so much fear to Odin Allfather when his first reaction to Loki had been to throw a lance through his head.

Thor obviously had no idea of what he should do or say - probably thinking that whatever answer he gave would get him killed. Loki reached out and put a hand on Thor’s arm, hoping to still the nerves that raced within Thor. When Thor met his eyes, Loki gave him a beseeching gaze. _Don’t be intimidated. Just answer._

Gradually, the frantic energy in Thor’s eyes calmed. Thor took a breath, and he addressed Odin. Though obviously still intimidated, he tried to hide it with the force of his bluster. “I am Thor. Of Jotunheim.”

Odin raised his head a notch, observing Thor much like a god gazing upon an amoeba. “And what are you to my son, Thor of Jotunheim?”

Loki raised his eyebrows. Thor was speechless for a moment; he glanced at Loki, who looked at him expectantly, and then he turned back to Odin. “We… he and I…” Thor looked back at Loki again. “We... _might_ be friends?” he said, in a sort of _ehhh-a-little-unlikely_ , high-pitched tone.

Loki’s mouth dropped open, and before he could think any better of it, he rounded on Thor and shouted, “ _Might_ be?”

Thor cringed. He sputtered, “Well, you know, we’ve only _known_ each other for a week. It was a _great_ week, but, um, I did start off wanting to kill you, and somehow you… made me not want that anymore… and also, you did sort of kidnap me into another world and put me in this… very awkward position. With your father.” Thor finished this by motioning toward the Allfather with his hand.

“Well you agreed to it!” Loki hissed, his hands curling for his knives.

“Well, what I agreed to was to be yours if you gave me the Casket, and you said ‘Well you have to come grab it yourself because my little Aesir hands will freeze off’, so-”

“So you’re only in it for the _Casket_? You don’t-” Loki realized what he was about to say, and he snapped his mouth shut, jaw working.

“Oh, no, Loki,” Thor said, a hand reaching out when Loki turned his face away in anger. “No, I do - I really want to-”

“ _Ahem_.” Odin Allfather cleared his throat. Thor and Loki stopped, frozen, staring at him in utter horror at the fact that they had actually forgotten he was there. “I see now,” Odin said mildly, “what you are to my son.”

“Oh,” Thor said, a purplish blush coming over his blue features. “Sir, forgive me, I--”

“Yes, you see! He is my champion!” Loki triumphantly threw his hand toward Thor. Since Loki was facing Odin, he did not see the slight disappointment on Thor’s hopeful face. Loki composed himself; he straightened his back and raised his head with poise, and then he launched into his explanation: “I assure you, father, that I truly am acting in the best interests of Asgard, for what I found on Jotunheim is a hero, a man who is worthy and who can save the lives--”

The minute Loki poised himself, Odin shut his eye with a well-contained sigh. “Alright, _enough_ , Loki,” he cut in, forcing Loki to stop. “The speech is unnecessary. I already saw that which you wanted me to see.” Odin turned to Thor. The King no longer looked threatening, but merely contemplative. “I did not think that a Frost Giant would ever be inclined to wield Mjolnir, but you have surprised me on this day.”

Thor looked confused. He turned to Loki. “Mjolnir?”

“The hammer.” Loki crossed his arms, his motions clipped, mood ruined. “It can only be lifted by those who are worthy.”

Thor’s brow furrowed. “Worthy? Of what?”

“Of many things,” Odin said. “Honor. Power. Responsibility. The willingness to use this strength and nobility for the good of Asgard. I once considered her a weapon meant solely for my heir.”

 _And it was_ , Loki thought, thinking of Hela. But he did not mention her aloud, instead saying, “A shame that I was never worthy of it. Isn’t that so, Father?”

Odin turned a startled eye on Loki; then, to Loki’s surprise, a sad expression came over him. “No, Loki; what I know of you is that Mjolnir could never be yours, for you have always found significance in places far beyond what Asgard could ever reach; Mjolnir would be a limitation, not a boon, for you.”

For once, Loki was struck speechless. He stared at this Odin. This Odin, who was actually proud of Loki most days, and who had never seen his son as someone to be ashamed of, and had never considered him anything lesser than his heir, his child.

“You, Thor of Jotunheim,” Odin called out. “If what I have heard is correct, then my son offered you the Casket of Ancient Winters in exchange for your fealty?”

“That… is correct, yes,” Thor said. “He offered me the Casket to save my people, and in exchange I would pledge my life and loyalty to him and his cause.”

Odin’s brow lowered when Thor mentioned Loki’s ‘cause’, no doubt flagging that this cause was something Loki had kept from Odin, but the Allfather did not mention it. He contemplated the two of them for a moment; Thor shuffled on his feet while Loki stood impassive. Finally, Odin said, “Then you may return the Casket to Jotunheim and fulfill the agreement you have with my son.” Odin tapped Gungnir on the ground, a deep metallic clang resonating into the walls of the palace itself. “Heimdall. Let it be known that the Frost Giant known as Thor may pass freely through Asgard so that he may ride the Bifrost to Jotunheim.”

The echo of the sound faded, leaving Thor standing there, gaping at the words. Loki tossed a look at him. “Thor. That means, take the Casket and go.”

Thor turned to Loki. “You’re--?” Loki gestured with his head and a hand. “...Alright, I don’t know what that means,” Thor confessed.

“He means that I must speak with him, and so he cannot accompany you back to Jotunheim,” Odin said. “As he said, you may take the Casket and bring it to Laufey. Let him know that we of Asgard do this as a sign of peace and trust, and that the Casket’s return was only made possible by the sacrifice you, Thor of Jotunheim, have given for your realm and people.”

Thor startled at the Allfather’s words. He nodded, bowing his head, and took the Casket into his hands. The Casket glowed minutely brighter in his touch, reacting to the long-lost scent of home. Thor took one more glance around the room, and after fumbling a ‘Thank you, see you’, he rushed out.

“And you think _I_ am dramatic,” Loki muttered under his breath, once Thor was gone.

“Merely that you have a tendency to wind words when none are needed,” Odin retorted. He shook his head. “Loki, what were you thinking?”

“Must we go through this?” Loki asked. “What’s done is done. I missed my coronation, a political storm is about to erupt because I gave away the Casket to Jotunheim, and soon we’ll need to send a delegation to officially meet with Laufey before he gets any ideas about what we’ll allow. We are ever so busy, and I see no point in dwelling on past matters when the future is so present.”

“Indeed,” Odin said. His eye narrowed. “Interesting way of putting it, that. A surprising piece of forward thinking coming from one who holds grudges as firmly as you do.”

“Me? Never.” Loki bared his teeth in a grin. “I’ve found that there’s no need to hold grudges if the events which cause them never come to pass.”

Odin shook his head, motioning Loki to leave the Vault with him. “You truly grow more esoteric by the day."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst in the beginning, fluff at the end. :)

The day of the meeting with Jotunheim, Loki dressed in his finest leathers and armor. He dressed himself alone using his seidr, no longer trusting the servants to tend to his body. As he picked up his horned helmet, he went to the mirror to check his appearance and found himself stopping to stare.

The reflection in the mirror looked so young. His hair was shorter than he’d worn in years, slicked back and curling around the base of his neck, and his eyes were much too large and expressive on his face. Loki felt like he was looking at a child, one who knew nothing of the world and what it meant to suffer. That was how Laufey must have seen him and Thor when they had first arrived at the Jotun’s throne room. Children who knew nothing of war, or of loss, or of true pain. Too eager to shed blood without knowing the cost.

The two of them were different, now. Loki - well. He was definitely no longer the same. The day that he had discovered his true heritage, he had been flayed apart; and then he had been sewn back together all wrong, the pieces of his identity and self misshapen and warped and twisted.

He had been so _desperate_ to prove that he was more than the lie, that he truly was all the things he’d grown up believing himself to be. First as an Aesir, then as a King meant to rule, and then as the liar and deceiver. And yet he had always run from the one claim that had never changed. Loki, for all the lies and deceit resting beneath his skin, had always been Thor’s brother.

Even when Loki had failed, over and over again, Thor had still, somehow, loved him. Even when Loki was a monster, or a madman, or a murderer, or a usurper, Thor claimed him as his brother. He had been foolish and so unhesitatingly giving in his love for Loki that Loki had feared that one day, when Thor finally saw just how twisted and wrong Loki was inside, how vile and disgusting - Thor would finally cease to love him.

Loki did not know what fate befell his brother after Loki’s death. He did not know if Thor was alive or dead, if he mourned Loki or if he rejoiced to see Loki’s corpse once and for all - yet it didn’t matter now, really. No matter what became of his Thor, his brother was well and truly gone to him, now. They were separated by entirely different universes. Loki had died, and he could not return there - not by any means that he knew. In this world without his brother, all Loki could do now was cling to the fascimile of his brother and pretend that, by doing good for _him_ , that by saving the world for _him_ \- that Loki could redeem himself to whatever scraps of his brother remained, carried in the depths of Loki’s heart. Though this world’s Thor would never understand how deeply Loki would act for him, and would never carry in him the same unconditional and foolish love for an unworthy brother, Loki was still drawn to his side.

Even though he was a Frost Giant, this Thor was so like his brother in all the ways that mattered. He had grown in such a different environment, tempered by the cold and cruelty of Jotunheim, yet he was still as naive and oh-so-easy to lead by the nose as his brother had been in his younger days. At the same time, he lacked the arrogance and pride that had blinded Loki’s brother and made him into a fool who would have run his people into the ground for the sake of glory and honor. He had not yet learned to never trust Loki, for he had not been betrayed countless times by the one he had sworn to love. He was innocent, and Loki needed to guide him.

For too long, Loki had been running, afraid that the evil inside of him would force Thor to realize Loki would never be worthy of being his brother. But now Loki knew that Thor had always loved him, and would have continued to always love him, if only Loki hadn’t ruined it all. It was here that Loki was given another chance to redeem himself, and to do the good that Thor would have wanted to do with him together. Thor would have wanted to lead Asgard and protect the Realms with Loki at his side. But Loki had failed him. He would not do so again.

Loki looked into the face of his younger self, this Loki who had never had to live the horrors and regrets of Loki’s original life - and he swore to himself that even if he had to claw his way forward, dragging himself by skin and bone over the most brutal of tortures and gruesome of pains, he _would_ save this world and prove that he was, in the end, worthy to be Thor’s brother.

No more running.

 

 

Loki strode from the Palace, resplendent in his golden armor, his cape of gold and green whirling behind him. He joined with the retinue that would accompany him to Jotunheim and saw the Warriors Three and Lady Sif standing nearby, anxious to join him. The sight of them only reminded Loki the past life where he, they, and Thor had slaughtered the Jotuns at Laufey’s court. This time, Thor was one of the Jotuns who could be wrecked by Hogun’s morning star, or cleaved by Volstagg’s hammer. He acted as if he had not seen them and set off over the rainbow bridge.

The Bifrost funneled Loki and his retinue to the entrance of Laufey’s palace. At first glance, it looked much the same as Loki’s previous and hazy memories of it. The land was dark all around, the sky the deep black of night and space, swirled with the colors of auroras and the swathes of distant galaxies. Yet the dark and lumbering structures of the palace, like shadows which loomed over the sky, did not crumble at the tremor of the Bifrost. Loki felt, too, the thrum of seidr beneath the frost, and when he looked closely, he saw an inner blue glow radiating in the ice.

The Casket had been put to use, and after a thousand years, Jotunheim’s scars were finally beginning to heal.

Two Jotuns awaited Loki at the entrance. They bowed formally when the light of the Bifrost dissipated. Loki followed the lumbering giants into Laufey’s throne room, the place of cavernous ice and fragmented glacier, which was ringed by deep fissures leading down into a cold abyss. Loki always wondered why there were pits around the throne room, and if they were meant for tossing people into them.

A line of Jotun guards stood at the sides of the room, out in the open and at attention. Loki saw that Laufey’s two sons, the Princes of the realm, stood to the sides of the towering throne upon which King Laufey himself sat, his red eyes glowing in the darkness. Loki’s stomach lurched. Even for Loki, seeing the biological father whom he had murdered was unsettling. Yet he was, after all, a Prince trained in diplomacy and tact, so he bowed properly and greeted, “Your Majesty, King Laufey.”

Laufey moved and spoke like the shifting of a glacier. “So the Asgardian Prince returns to our lands. I bid you welcome, Prince Loki of Asgard.”

Loki took in those words, then tilted his head with a small and opaque smile. “It is an honor. The lands of Jotunheim are vast and beautiful, and it is heartening to see that their beauty has only grown since the last I was here.”

“Yes,” Laufey rumbled. “A thousand years of decay behind, and ahead, a new era of growth. I was told we have you to thank for this, Son of Odin.”

“Oh, surely not me,” Loki demurred. “The credit for the return of the Casket goes to he who paid the price and brought it back.”

Laufey observed Loki through his cold red eyes and let out a low hum. “And what a price was paid. Apt as your moniker may be, Loki Silvertongue, I cannot imagine that even _you_ could convince Odin Allfather that the Casket was an equal exchange for a single Jotun slave.”

“Who says I negotiated for only a simple slave?” Loki’s smile was wide. “Perhaps there is more to him than is obvious.”

One of the princes shuffled in a subtle scoff. Loki’s eyes flicked toward him, but when the giant kept his mouth shut, Loki dismissed him and returned to address the King.

“Your Majesty, may I ask whether the missive sent earlier this week has reached the court of Jotunheim?”

“Yes, I have received it,” Laufey said. “There is nothing beyond what we can accept. We will agree to these terms of peace, and allow for trade and travel between the realms of Jotunheim and Asgard.”

“Excellent. I shall carry word to the Allfather of this decision.”

“Do so, Prince.” Laufey creaked in his throne and made a motion with his hand. “And now to what _you_ are here for.”

A shuffle came from a distant end of the room. The guards rippled in their formation, and then, from behind them, Loki saw Thor. He was so small between his fellows that he could only be seen when made way for him, but his stature and aura made him no lesser in notice.

He was an incredible work of Jotun art, the inner nobility of his person contrasted by the sharp and severe bodies of the guards. The Jotuns had dressed him up. When Loki had first met Thor, the Jotun lookalike of his brother wore only a simple fur loincloth, and his hair was loose and wild. He had been the very image of a savage frost giant. Now they had given him clothes; a cape of a thick pelt was draped over his shoulders, held to his chest with metal pauldrons. He wore leather vambraces (of Asgardian design, Loki noticed), pants, and boots. His wild hair still hung loosely about his head like a wild lion’s mane, but his beard had been styled with braids. His face set set in a sharp and icy expression like the frost from which he was carved.

“Your champion,” Laufey said, the word curling in the King’s mouth. “The Jotun named Thor.”

Thor strode to the center of the room, his body held tightly as if a storm raged within him. Loki watched Thor come to a stop before him, towering over Loki, his back and shoulders stiff with stubbornness and a refusal to yield. Loki raised an eyebrow and glanced up at Thor’s face; but Thor looked rigidly over Loki’s head, not allowing Loki to glean anything from his mind.

After coming to stand at Loki’s side, Thor did not bow or kneel or otherwise show any sign that he acknowledged Loki’s existence. It drew a murmur from the Asgardian retinue: the Jotun to show such blatant disrespect to the Prince! Loki paid them no mind. Since Thor was otherwise silent and acquiescent, Loki resumed his proceedings with Laufey. Even if Thor regretted his decisions now, Loki would not let him go.

He checked Thor over for wounds or injuries, and upon finding no signs of mistreatment, he nodded his head and said, “Then from this day forward, Thor of Jotunheim shall be sworn to my service, and he shall return with me to Asgard.” Loki turned a smile on Laufey. “I am curious to know if he has received any reward for his service in restoring the Casket of Ancient Winters?”

“He is known as a hero, and that is his only reward,” Laufey said. “He claimed no desire for treasures.”

“Fair enough,” Loki said. He swept a bow to Laufey. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“And so our matters are settled. You may go, Prince of Asgard. Return to your lands.”

Loki glanced at Thor. The Jotun was still unreadable and silent, and Loki figured that it was best to drag whatever he was thinking out of him when they were away from prying eyes. He stepped away and made to leave the throne room, but before he went far, he heard a low snort and the murmur: “Go on, whore.”

Loki looked back. There Thor stood, enraged and anchored to the ground, while one of the Jotun princes smirked.

 _Oh_ , Loki thought. He cast his gaze about the room, seeing the way the other Jotuns looked at Thor. “Helblindi,” Laufey rumbled, but the admonishment didn’t matter, not if the prince was only saying what everyone thought in private.

Helblindi shrugged, and he looked at Loki as if in challenge. Thor vibrated at the center of the room. It was a funny parallel, Loki thought - something like this had happened before, except it was the insult of ‘princess’, not ‘whore’, that had enraged Thor so. But this Thor was not a prince and he could not strike back to defend his own pride and honor.

Loki found himself saying, “That’s a rather fine compliment, Thor. He thinks you must be so good a lay you can change the course of entire realms.”

“Or just the mind of a single, stupid-” Before Helblindi could finish, Laufey growled and slammed a hand down on his throne. Ice jut from the ground and froze over Helblindi from foot to mouth, silencing him.

“Pay him no mind,” Laufey said. “My son is young and foolish.”

Loki chuckled lowly. “Indeed he is,” Loki said. “For even if Thor _had_ spread his legs for me, he’d have achieved far more through it than anyone else would have.” Loki looked at Helblindi and smiled, tilting his head. “I do wonder what price _you_ , Prince, would be willing to pay for the sake of your people. If I asked you to kneel before me in exchange for the Casket, would you? Or would you consider your pride and honor far more valuable than the lives of the thousands of your people who are dying, starved of sustenance, deprived of medicines to cure even the simplest of diseases?” Loki glanced around the room, gaze meeting Laufey’s. The King was granting him an indulgence, and since he allowed Loki to speak, he did. He said, “Perhaps it is unthinkable to you why I would trade the heart of your realm for the loyalty of a single Jotun, one who is mocked throughout your realm for being a runt. But you shall see, in time, that what I have bartered for is the greatest warrior in all of the realms; and when the skalds tell his stories and visitors from distant planets speak his name, you will know that the legacy of the Jotnar changed on this day. And it all started with you calling the hero of your people a whore.”

  
  


“Do you always do that?” Thor asked.

Loki paused and looked over his shoulder. He was walking out of the palace toward the Bifrost’s mark, and Thor lumbered behind him, golden brow knit over his blue skin. The Asgardian retinue had parted around him, giving him a wide berth and looking much like a school of tiny fish avoiding a shark.

“Do what?”

“Get the last word. Make everyone do what you want just by talking at them.”

“What part of that sounded like anyone did what I wanted?” Loki asked. “Laufey was pressed by circumstance to be cordial. He’d only just gotten the Casket back, and he wasn’t about to risk it by giving me any reason to run back to Father and cry about how the Jotnar don’t deserve it. What Helblindi said could have led to a diplomatic shitshow. You do realize you are _my_ vassal, representative of me and my authority as Crown Prince of Asgard? His insult to you was a slander upon not only me, but on Asgard and its ruling. He implied that Asgard’s royalty was so foolish that were would give up a relic of incredible power and significance all for a simple bedwarmer.”

Thor took this in silently. Loki wondered if he even realized the change in his status; Thor was to be Loki’s personal aide, his companion. He was not going to be some Jotun slave for anyone to debase. A moment later, Thor said, “It’s pretty difficult for me to warm anyone’s bed.”

“Then it’s a good thing no one’s asked you to do it,” Loki said waspishly.

“But if someone wanted their sheets cooled down…”

“Useful in the summer, I’m sure,” Loki said. “I’m sorry. Did you have a point to this?”

They arrived at the Bifrost’s mark at the edge of the continent. Loki and Thor settled easily at the center of it, side by side, while the rest of the retinue huddled around them on the edges.

“I just wanted to say,” Thor said, looking straight ahead at the structure of the palace they had just left, “thank you. For defending and believing in me.”

Loki looked up at him. And then he looked away, clearing his throat. It was nothing Thor hadn’t done for him, after all. But he just said, “Next time someone calls you a whore, feel free to punch them across the mouth.”

“Even in Asgard?”

“Especially in Asgard,” Loki said. “Speaking of which--”

On cue, Heimdall opened the Bifrost and took them back to Asgard.

  


Loki sent the retinue to go and inform Odin that Laufey had agreed to their terms of peace. He, meanwhile, took it upon himself to properly introduce Thor to Asgard.

It didn’t matter, logistically, whether Thor knew anything of the history or culture of the Aesir, but it didn’t settle well with Loki to allow his brother to roam about clueless and foreign. So he started with Heimdall in the Bifrost, allowing the two to properly meet; Thor had introduced himself by saying, “Hello, I’m Thor,” and Heimdall had replied, “I know. I have seen you.” And that was when Loki was given the immense pleasure of explaining to Thor that Heimdall could see everything that happened across the Nine Realms, from a single drop of dew falling from a blade of grass a thousand worlds away, to a cricket passing gas in Niflheim - and that meant Heimdall was certainly well-acquainted with Thor, and wasn’t it a nice thought to know there was someone like this watching over you and whatever you did at _all_ times? The aghast expression on Thor’s face was enough to set Loki giggling.

Once Thor had skittered away from Heimdall, they began the long journey of crossing the rainbow bridge. Loki explained this to him, too, telling him roughly of the significance of the Bifrost. The Bifrost was the connecting point between all of the Nine Realms, and without it, one would be forced to either ride through the universe in spaceships - so _primitive_ , could you _imagine_ \- or find alternative means, as Loki had.

When they neared the gates that lead into the city, Loki adjusted his clothing with a wave of seidr. He stripped away his armor and helmet, leaving him only in his black and green leather. Thor stared at the way the seidr wiped across Loki, and he asked, “Was that armor all an illusion this whole time?”

“No, I really was wearing it,” Loki said. “By the way - are you not feeling hot?”

They had passed through the gates and were in Asgard proper, now. The citizens roaming the plaza stared, some with hands over their mouths, at the sight of a Jotun accompanying their Prince. Thor hadn’t noticed, too busy engaging in conversation with Loki. “I admit, it’s _slightly_ different from what I’m used to,” he said, “but, you know. I’m a hardy Jotun. I can survive anywhere I need to.”

“Charming,” Loki said. “But unnecessary. Allow me to help.” He reached out and set his bare hand upon Thor’s arm, his pale skin starkly contrasting the vibrant blue of the muscle beneath his fingers. From the corner of his eye, Loki saw several visible gasps - _the Prince was touching a Jotun with his bare hands! He’ll be_ frostbitten! -- and he smiled up at Thor. He pulled his seidr closer, weaving a cooling enchantment over Thor and anchoring it to the Jotun’s skin.

“Oh,” Thor said, “whoa. The temperature just dropped.”

“Is it to your liking?” Loki pulled his hand away. The two of them continued to walk, chatting idly, and a small smile crossed Loki’s lips when he saw the townspeople converging to gossip over what they had just seen.

Loki took Thor around Asgard, showing him the main roads, the various public parks, the amphitheaters and the public training grounds. Thor looked around in awe at every location, astounded by the beauty of Asgard. He had not had time to admire the city on his first visit, so Loki took care to make sure this second visit was pleasant.

When they were visiting the market stalls, a young woman selling jewelry smiled and beckoned the two of them over. She showed Thor her wares and asked him if he had ever seen any jewelry finer than hers - which no, Thor had not - and after she had regaled him with stories of how the metals were sourced from mines in the deepest pits of Muspelheim, guarded by dragons and demons, and how the jewels were hand-carved and polished by beautiful elves on Alfheim, she pulled out a necklace. It was a long thing of leather string and a wild metal pendant hanging from it, and she offered it to Thor as a gift in celebration of their new friendship. Thor had tried to refuse it, at first, and only took it when Loki said that he would proffer a suitable payment. Thor put on the necklace, the pendant falling perfectly beneath his collarbones, and Loki shared a sly smile with the jewelry seller as he handed over her payment.

Next they wandered to a leisure district of restaurants and food stalls surrounding a public garden. Loki pulled Thor over to a vendor who sold confections made of nut, honey, and spun sugar, and purchased a cone full of them. They then took a walk through the garden, snacking on the confections along the way. The sight of so much greenery and running water was entirely foreign to Thor, who stopped and stared at every tree, every flowering bush, and every trimmed hedge. “Do these plants grow like that?” he asked, eyeing a hedge that was shaped like a rabbit.

It was then that something hurtled into Thor’s leg, and when the Jotun looked down, he saw a child who had butted into him and fallen over. The child looked up at him, eyes wobbly with tears, while his playmates stood a short distance away. All around them, the citizens of Asgard stared in horror, some of them looking around for guards, though unfortunately there were none in the area.

Thor blinked down at the tiny child. Then he squatted, his enormous bulk folding until he looked like a large blue boulder on the ground, and he asked, “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

The child shook his head and started sniffling. Thor looked around in a panic, wondering what he should do; when he glanced up at Loki, Loki sent him a clear dismissive look. So Thor turned back to the child and brought over his face a blooming and beautiful smile, if pointy-toothed. “Hey, it’s alright, you’re okay!” he said cheerfully, face and voice animated to catch the child’s attention. “Here, let’s get up.” He offered his hand to the child, and when the child grasped one of his fingers with a tiny, pudgy hand, Thor gently helped the child to his feet. “See, you’re okay, aren’t you?” He patted the child softly on the head and offered him the rest of the confections, which the child gleefully took. The child then launched forward and wrapped Thor’s leg in a hug. He looked up shyly and said “Thank you” in a small voice, then ran off to share the confections with the rest of his fellows.

The people of Asgard were gaping, and Loki smothered a smirk. He continued bringing Thor through the city. Several other encounters occurred along the way - an old woman offered Thor some of her homemade mead, and cooed when he exclaimed over its deliciousness; a poet improvised a sonnet about Loki that had Loki scowling and sent Thor into gales of laughter; and a young girl shyly came up to Thor and handed him a red flower, saying that his eyes were very pretty.

When the sun had just begun to set, Loki sneaked Thor into an observatory. They climbed to the top of the tower, and when Loki clambered out the window and onto the roof, Thor threw him a bewildered look but followed him anyway. They sat together atop the pinnacle of this building. Before them was laid out all of Asgard, its distant mountains, the palace, and even the Bifrost, and together they watched the sunset splay its light over the golden realm, the sky burnished with gold and orange. Loki pulled out some sustenance and bottles of mead, which he shared with Thor. They dined while watching the sun set over Asgard.

“It’s beautiful,” Thor said, gazing out over the landscape, eyes soft with wonder.

By the time they returned to the palace, it was already evening. Loki lead Thor to his room, a chamber close to Loki’s and located within the same wing. As they walked through the hall, Loki asked, “So, what do you think of your new home?”

Thor was flushed with happiness, every part of his body radiating joy. The necklace sat cozily on his chest; a smidge of sugar was stuck on his beard; the red flower had found itself tucked into his hair, a vibrant splotch of red in a field of gold. Thor beamed, radiant. “I love it here.”

Loki smiled back, slow and satisfied.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spend a lot of time watching the Team Thor shorts. Seriously, a lot of time. An unhealthy amount of time. And as I was staring at the mind map Thor made about the Infinity Stones and Thanos (which pointedly centered around Loki's mugshot), I wondered: where did Thor learn to map things out like this? From his Midgardian friends? Nah, probably from Loki when they were, like, eight, and Loki still needed visual aids to sort the mess in his brain.

The terrified screams which rang through Asgard notified Loki of Thor’s return before any of the servants could. Loki paused, grimacing; he had been studying a diagram woven of seidr, a web of notes which helped him link the coming events to each other and figure out his plans for the coming days. He waved away this diagram away, now, and grabbing Gungnir, he stood from his chair. He exited his study, making his way to the main hall of the palace.

It was a sight to behold, what he found there: an enormous carcass of some manner of furry beast spilling over the ground, its body so large that it nearly packed the entire hall with its girth from ceiling to floor. The assorted nobles and guests stood clinging to the sides of the room, doing their utmost to not touch a single hair of the beast before them. Odin would be so very displeased by the display. A pity that he was now in Sleep.

Loki strode down the hall toward the entrance. There, hidden behind the rump of the beast, stood a boastful Thor and the rather haggard-looking Sif and Warriors Three.

“Loki!” Thor beamed at the sight of him, looking like a proud dog that had fetched for its master. “I’ve retrieved what you have asked!” He patted the parcel at his hip.

“And more, I see.” Loki came to a stop in front of Thor, who unlaced the parcel from his belt and handed it to Loki. Loki pulled the bag open just slightly, enough to feel the gust of cold air and see the glowing blue light within. “Yes, this will work.” He sent the bag away to his pocket and turned to the Asgardians who’d accompanied Thor. A bit of snow was still stuck on Fandral’s furred coat. “I take it you’re all enjoying the adventure?”

Volstagg sneezed. Sif, ever hardy, stopped her shivering to knock a salute to her chest and say, “Yes, Your Majesty. We have fought a mighty enemy on the plains of Jotunheim. It was a far greater challenge to defeat than the Marauders on Vanaheim of last week, or the fire demons on Muspelheim of the week before. Thor insisted that it would bring us great honor to present the beast to you.”

“Aye,” Thor boomed, slapping a hand to the hide of the beast. “For this is what we call a frost bison, said to be one of the fiercest beasts of the most delicious flavor. Even the greatest warriors of Jotunheim would not risk their lives on the hunt for anyone less than their King!”

They all looked at this frost bison now - it was hard not to, what with the beast taking up most of the view of the place - and indeed, it made sense that this would be fare meant for Frost Giants, heavy on the _giants_. Volstagg, at least, looked quite elated.

“Tell the kitchens to prepare a feast from this frost bison,” Loki said to a guard standing by the entrance. “And you, bring a contingent of guards to transport it.” He looked at Thor, now. “Do I actually want to know how you brought this beast over here? I rather thought there must be a weight limit to the Bifrost.”

“Heimdall was _not_ pleased,” uttered Hogun, and really, that said all that needed to be said.

“In any case, well done on the completion of another quest,” Loki said. “You’ll have to tell the whole story over the feast, but for now, you’ve all deserved a good rest. Return to your homes; I shall see you in the evening.”

Sif and the Warriors Three bowed at the dismissal and hastily beat their retreats back to their homes. A long few weeks had passed where they had been forced to travel from end to end of the Nine Realms, and they were long overdue for a rest.

Thor, on the other hand, had never looked more alive. The Jotun nearly glowed with pride; his walk had a swagger to it that reminded Loki dreadfully of his brother’s younger days.

“You’ll now be getting your feast,” Loki said, unable to stop his voice from growing thorns. “I suppose you’re awaiting for your accolades, as well?” He lifted his hands and gestured with his right one, which was wrapped around Gungnir. “I would clap if only I were not so burdened. As it is, satisfy yourself by knowing that you’ve done a great service for your King.”

The needles punctured. Thor frowned, his jubilation draining. Behind them, the contingent of guards had arrived. They had begun assembling around the frost bison, pulling at it and attempting to drag it away much like ants swarming around their spoils. Loki did not have to stand there and watch this; he spun around and left the hall, his boots clacking loudly on the floor. He hated that. He silenced his footsteps with a spell.

Behind him, Thor’s thumping steps followed. The Jotun only had to take one stride to match two of Loki’s. It was an annoyance how easily this Thor could catch up with him.

The Jotun prudently kept his mouth shut until they had left the public sector of the palace. Only when they were in the private halls meant for the royal family and invited guests (of which there was only one) did Thor speak.

“Loki…” It was the tone of voice which made Loki pause. Loki looked back. Thor, trailing behind him, had a faintly stricken expression on his face.

No. This was absolutely unfair. Loki could not even be allowed to be angry at _Thor_ anymore, not when he was this - this _innocent_ and babe-hearted of a--

“I’m not _angry_ at _you_.” The door to his chambers swung open by itself. Loki stalked inside went back into his study. Thor hesitated at the doorway, but when the door did not shut itself, he quietly followed after Loki.

Loki’s study looked as if a tornado had run through a library and stopped by every parchment-selling storefront along the way: books upon books, sheets of paper everywhere. Loki threw himself onto his chair, letting Gungnir fall against the desk. Thor stood huddled at the entrance, his enormous bulk just barely brushing against some stacks of books.

“I am quite busy,” Loki said. He picked up a book and opened it randomly; he already knew it had nothing of value. He tossed it to the side. “If you have nothing to do, you may wait for me outside. Or leave.”

Yet Thor did not go. The Jotun shuffled on his feet. Loki picked up another book; this one was an epic poem of travels written in Ancient Alfish. Utterly headache-inducing. He flipped through the book, scanning for any mentions of notable words or phrases. Eventually, Thor must have scrounged up some courage while shrinking himself into the room, for after closing the door, he cleared his throat. “Do you... want to talk about it?”

“About what?” Loki spoke pleasantly, not even looking up from the book. He flipped a page and met with yet another dozen stanzas detailing the buxom maid of which the author had been enamored. He flipped a page again.

Thor looked around the room. His gaze landed at his feet, where he could not even walk without stepping on something.

“Oh, this?” Loki asked, still pleasant, casually flipping through pages. “Well, it is quite a task to be King. You wouldn’t know anything about it.”

“Loki,” Thor said. Loki could hear the frown in his voice. “This isn’t about the regency. If it were - if you were truly this troubled, you could have asked for the Queen’s guidance.”

“Maybe I want to prove myself. I am meant to be King soon, you know.”

Well, not since the failed coronation. Neither of them said that aloud.

Thor carefully picked his way across the room. He retrieved the tome that Loki had tossed aside, turning the book around in his overlarge hands.

“Can you even read?” Loki asked. It’s not as if Jotunheim abounded with books; such fragile sheets of paper and leather would not last long in the ice. Would a hunter, outcast and poor as Thor, even have the opportunity for education? It was a miracle that he was even able to speak, really.

“Yes,” Thor said. He turned the book to face Loki, raising his eyebrows as if knowing what Loki had been thinking. “‘ _Tales of the Miracle Stones_ ’, by some unpronounceable gibberish name of an author.”

“The name is fitting for the quality of their work. No, don’t bother reading it. See, I told you.” After catching a glimpse of the words, Thor had slapped the book shut, his mouth pulled in a horrified grimace.

He set the book down atop one of the piles. Then he hesitated, his eyes catching on some of the notes Loki had written. He picked up a sheet of paper, brows furrowed at the sight of words he certainly would _not_ be able to read, given that every line was illusioned to scramble unless seen by Loki’s eyes. Thor set down the sheet gently and peered over the other books around him. He began poking through the stacks, lifting books to glance at titles and taking care to set everything back in its place.

“What are you researching?” Thor asked, looking through a book with a frown. That one was an encyclopedia of sentient plants and rocks discovered by some researcher several millennia past. “I see poetry, travelogues, chronicles of history, even some lists of trade agreements. And so much mythology and folktale. This isn’t all for one purpose, is it?”

Loki shrugged carelessly. There was no clean answer to that: it was both yes and no. Yes, Loki had a single purpose in mind, but that purpose was multifaceted, and could not be achieved by a singular course of action.

He had been running his mind in circles these past few weeks, thinking and strategizing and agonizing over what must be done. There were too many things that had changed in this world, and too many that had not. By this time, Loki would have been in the hands of the Titan, tortured and remade to fit his purpose. Thor would have been restored as the golden son after his three days of exile on Midgard; at this moment, he would be yearning for his Midgardian woman, thoroughly separated from her after he’d smashed the Bifrost to pieces. He was probably lovelorn, wondering if he would ever see her again, thinking about what he would say to her to explain his disappearance, as if that Midgardian wench had more presence in his heart than Loki did. He didn’t even know what Loki had been going through, that Loki had been screaming his name, begging for someone to hear him and save him, crying--

“Thor,” Loki spoke quietly into the silence. “Come here.”

Thor came to him easily. Though he was too large, too blue, too cold to be his brother, Loki took comfort in his presence anyway.

Loki closed the book on his lap and set it aside. It had no use for him now. No matter how many tomes he read, it would take a fool’s luck to actually find any information on the Infinity Stones from them. Even the stones whose fates he knew could not be found within these pages. He was naive to think that the other stones would be any easier to find.

“You want to know what I’m doing?” Loki asked. He tilted his head to look up at Thor, who towered over his seat. He didn’t even need to hear the reply. Loki smiled, a grim and tepid thing, and he ordered, “Sit. You’ll get a better view.”

When Thor sat, his head coming up to Loki’s shoulder despite not having a chair beneath him, Loki drew up the diagram he had been crafting. Strings of seidr formed in the air, weaving and knitting together. Images and strings, notes and theories - most of them still hidden to any eyes but Loki’s, of course.

“What is this?” Thor’s gaze roved over the map, eyebrow furrowed in perplexity.

“You remember how I said our universe is in danger? Well, this is how I’m trying to figure out how to save it.” Loki flicked his fingers, and the map resolved to show the vague figures of Malekith, Hela, and Thanos. “The main threats.” He flicked his fingers again, and a web of nodes spiraled out from each figure. Hela and Malekith had but a handful, while Thanos’ spanned a galaxy. “Their plans and motivations.” He flicked his fingers a final time, returning to the grand master diagram. “And how everything connects together.”

Thor’s mouth had unhinged. His red eyes bounced around the entire map, looking at the depictions of faces, the scepter, the clouds of information that Loki had obscured, the glove. Loki saw the spark in Thor’s eye that showed he recognized the glove as the one they found in the treasury. “How do you know all this?” Thor asked. “What are these hidden parts?”

“What I hide is meant for no one to know. How I came by this knowledge is part of that.” An infuriating answer, to be sure - one that made Thor frown. Loki dismissed the diagram, the intricate web dissolving into air. “In any case, that is what concerns me. A great fat lot, as you so plainly saw.”

“Not so plainly when I could understand none of it.”

“You’ll understand soon enough,” Loki said. He felt tired. He sank back into his chair. “I’ll have to explain it to you sometime or another. Just not today. Today…” Loki looked up at the ceiling, thinking. “We’ll feast. I’ll give you your accolades, and you can regale everyone with the tale of how you slew the mighty frost bison and smuggled it back to Asgard. And then tomorrow… a quest.”

“Another?” Thor turned to Loki. “These quests are all part of your plan, aren’t they. So what is next on the list? Alfheim? Back to Vanaheim?”

“Oh, it’ll be a surprise," Loki said, a shrewd smile splitting over his lips.


	8. Chapter 8

The Golden Realm of Asgard was not known for its subterfuge. It was a land of warriors and honor, righteousness and strength. Asgard’s halls had no place for those who walked the shadows, and it was for this reason that Loki journeyed beyond to the outskirts of the realm. There, in the settlements hidden by the towering mountains from Asgard’s light, he found those he needed. The spies, the turncoats, and the prisoners given asylum; the exiled and the forgotten all lived here, covered up.

They had never been people worthy of the eyes of Asgard. They were never visited, and rarely spoken to. And thus, no one would notice if these forgotten exiles left the realm, few by few, to journey out into the stars. No one would notice the vagrants who wandered the universe in search for memories of powers long left hidden.

  


“Remind me again why I must look like this,” Thor said.

They walked across the rainbow bridge, side by side. The dawn brought the sun into the sky, the edges of pink sinking into the horizon under the weight of the clear blues. Thor looked down at himself, staring at the peachy color of his hands and the unfamiliar layers of clothing over his body. He was a head and a half shorter, making him the exact image of Loki’s brother - right down to the disgruntled expression he wore whenever he became victim to Loki’s tricks. Loki couldn’t help but grin at his reaction. Neither could he help but gaze at deeply at Thor; it brought out a wistfulness and a longing in him, this familiar sight of his brother with his long blond hair and his two blue eyes so easy and trusting when they met Loki’s. But the sight was tainted by the fact that Loki knew he would never truly see his brother this way again. They stared at each other, and Loki did not know how long he had been looking into Thor’s eyes when Thor broke away, a low flush in his cheeks.

“Do I look good like this?”

“Of course you do,” Loki said. “Do you think I would give you a glamour that didn’t? I suppose the fashion could be better, but it wouldn’t suit the image we’re going for. You’ll need to look personable and approachable, even if that means leaving you in a state of semi-scruffiness.”

Thor traced a self-conscious hand over his beard, the knit in his brow practically saying aloud all his thoughts. Was he really scruffy? Of course he was. Any Thor in any world would have to be scruffy. Loki couldn’t imagine one who was slick and put-together.

They reached the end of the Bifrost. Despite the early hour, Heimdall awaited them in the Observatory. The Gatekeeper settled his golden eyes on Loki in a rather judgmental silence, and Loki wiggled Gungnir, now in the shape of a cane, at him.

“Still King,” Loki said. “I can do what I want.”

“As you say,” Heimdall said, neutral in the way that meant he’d have walked away to get a drink if he weren’t sworn to the throne.

“I presume you’ve located the woman. You’ve set the Bifrost off as I’ve asked?”

“I have, my King,” Heimdall said, while Thor looked over at Loki with a frown and asked, “What woman?”

“Good.” Loki turned to Thor, his eyes narrow and glittering. “You’ll see soon enough. Don’t get attached. Or else.”

Thor swallowed.

Whatever else he would have said was lost as Loki turned back to Heimdall and ordered, “Then send us down. As I specified.”

Another short, judgmental silence passed. “Very well, my King.” Heimdall set his sword into the Bifrost. The Observatory swirled, its cannon activating, the light gathering and pulsing until it shot Loki and Thor down onto Midgard.

  


The laboratory of Jane Foster was located in one of the least defensible structures Loki had ever seen. It was ringed by windows spanning from floor to ceiling, and its entrance was left wide open for anyone to wander through. Though it had a marvelous view of the expanse of the desert, as far as Loki was concerned, that just meant the building was one step away from being out in the middle of nowhere. Loki was far from enamored of the woman, but even he had to wonder at the state of Midgardian society if one of the most intelligent of their researchers was left to struggle in a backwater like this.

He rapped his knuckles against the doorway. “Pardon me,” he said, calling the attention of a young Midgardian girl sitting in a nearby chair. “I am looking for a Dr Jane Foster. Would she happen to be in?”

The girl had a small rectangular electronic in her hand, from which extended a wire that connected to her ears. At Loki’s voice, she looked up from this device, and her eyes widened enormously.

“Oh my god,” she muttered, “best Lucksday _ever_.” She scrambled to her feet and said, loudly, “Uh, yeah, give me a second… Jane! Jane, oh my god put down the machine thingy - listen, you’ve got to see this…”

“What is it, Darcy? I’ve really got to--” the sound of Foster’s voice rounded the corner. When Foster came into view, her eyes fell immediately upon Loki and Thor. “Oh,” she said, breathless, her gaze drawing toward Thor. Of course it did.

Loki didn’t do anything as brash as try to block Thor from her view, but he did step forward and say, “Doctor Foster. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” When she startled, attention diverted back to Loki, he smiled and held out his hand. “My name is Loki Odinson. I’m a - fellow researcher, if you will, interested in a similar field of study. When I heard of your work, I knew that I had to come see you.”

“Oh, wow. It’s nice to meet you, Mr Odinson.” Jane reached out to shake his hand, smiling at him with a rather bashful and surprised expression. Loki knew, of course, that she had spent her years ridiculed by her fellow scholars for her pursuit of what seemed to be an impossible dream. To be told that someone had specifically sought her out for her work would be a great compliment, a validation of her efforts. Loki intended to use this to its fullest advantage.

“And who’s the beefcake behind you?” the Midgardian girl asked.

At those words, Foster whipped around. “Darcy!” she hissed, but Darcy looked unapologetic, merely shrugging as she continued to ogle Thor.

“Yes, allow me to introduce my companion, Thor. He is a good friend of mine, and he agreed to accompany me here on our first ever visit to New Mexico.”

“Oh!” Foster said. “Well, welcome to the state, Thor and, um… Mr Odinson?”

“Please. Call me Loki.” Loki kept a charming smile on his face, practiced from all his years of diplomacy. He could keep it up in the face of the most wretched beings in the world, so it couldn’t be too difficult to use it on Jane Foster. He turned around toward Thor and said, “Thor, why don’t you also come introduce yourself,” but he cut short at the sight of Thor’s face.

A chill fell over the room. Darcy shivered and rubbed her hands over her arms. “Jeez, how’d it get so cold in here? Did we get an AC all of a sudden?”

“Weird, I don’t know--”

“Excuse me, so sorry,” Loki said, working hard to keep his smile from turning stiff. “Thor and I have to discuss something, but - we’ll be back shortly.”

“Oh, um, okay,” Foster said, as Loki grabbed Thor’s arm and hauled him out of the building.

 

When they were a good distance away, Loki stopped under the awning of a storefront and pulled Thor under the shadow. He flicked his hand to cast a minor illusion around them which silenced their voices and made them seem as if they were only just calmly chatting against the wall. He then faced Thor and demanded, “What are you doing?”

Across from him, Thor’s expression remained stormy and incandescent. He crossed his arms, muscles bulging, and muttered back, “I don’t know. What are _you_ doing?”

Loki was momentarily at a loss for words. He reached his hand out and placed it on Thor’s arm, and the muscle jumped under his touch. “Are you - are you too hot? Is the heat getting to you?” He was about to strengthen the power of his cooling spell, but Thor growled and pulled his arm away.

“No. I’m fine.”

“Oh. Truly. Then I suppose that’s why you look like a bilgesnipe just pissed over your boots.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Thor growled. “I just - why are we here? Who is this woman you were talking to?”

“Doctor Foster?” A shade of surprise had made its way into Loki’s voice. “So you _are_ angry over what I told you. Well, don’t fret,” Loki sneered, “you’ll have to interact with her regardless. But if you _dare_ to ever think that you want to _stay_ here with her, then I’ll--”

“What?” Thor said, confusion wrinkling his brow.

“Oh, I should have known,” Loki muttered to himself. “I didn’t think you could fall for her that quickly, but every time I think I’ve figured things out, you--”

“Loki.” Thor’s anger had faded into simple perplexity. He made some nervous gestures with his arms, crossing and uncrossing them, and said, “You’re not interested in her,” in the tone of a half-statement, half-question.

“Of course I am,” Loki said. “She’s the reason why we came to this backwater of a planet. Her research centers upon a rudimentary understanding of the Bifrost, and furthering her study will benefit us.”

“Oh,” Thor said.

He looked at his feet in silence. For once, Loki had no idea what was going through Thor’s head. “I intended for you to befriend her,” Loki offered. “I would have to be the one providing the backing for her research, naturally,  but… I would prefer to not have to interact with her more than is necessary.”

“Oh,” Thor said. He looked up. “Really?”

Loki’s lips twitched down. “Yes. So don’t worry. You’ll get to spend as _much_ time with her as you like. Just don’t forget that we _will_ be leaving, and with how short mortal lives are, why, we might not ever see her again once we do.” He turned a sharp glance on Thor, who tried valiantly to appear neutral in the face of Loki’s statements. “And _that_ is why I said to not get attached.”

“I see,” Thor said. Strangely, he didn’t look nearly as torn up about it as Loki thought he would.

  


When they returned to the laboratory, Thor was back to his normal exuberant self. He cheerfully made introductions with Darcy, Foster, and Selvig, who had wandered out to greet them. Selvig turned a stern stare on both Thor and Loki; he was a wary man, suspicious of risks, and rightfully so. His hunches usually turned out to be right. There were some things that were safer to be avoided. It was unfortunate that he hadn’t followed his instincts to leave the Tesseract well alone.

“So who are you exactly?” Selvig asked. “There’s only one place I’ve ever heard of the name Loki Odinson before, and it’s not the most scientific book.”

“I’m merely an interested party with knowledge that could be of use,” Loki smoothly offered. He turned to Foster. “You study the concept of a bridge between worlds, yet haven’t found any way to prove its existence or the manner in which the bridge could be formed. The former will be up to you, but the latter is something I can help with.”

“Okay,” Foster said. “I’ll have to see it to believe it, but anything that could help my research would be… wonderful. Really.” There was a slight grimace to her face. It was likely the thought of the lack of funding, which would certainly have made her resources run dry.

Loki reached into his suit coat and conjured up a sheaf of notes he had transcribed, casting a glamour over them which would make the words understandable to the Midgardian eye. He handed the notes to Foster. “These are my findings. I hope that they might be of use.”

Foster took them and gingerly began reading. It was a few lines in when her eyes focused and her face brightened. Moments later, she clutched the papers tightly, and she said, “Erik - Erik, you have to read this, this is--”

“Aaaand, there she goes,” Darcy said, watching Foster grab Selvig’s arm and drag him away to a table where they could study the notes together. She turned to Loki and Thor with an apologetic smile and a shrug. “Sorry. Once she gets into her science thing it’s really hard to pull her out of it. But I’m sure she’s, like, super thankful for the help. I mean, look at her.”

“It’s quite alright,” Loki said. He didn’t really care. As long as Foster did her job and advanced her study of the Bifrost, it was all well enough.

He did look over at Thor, though; but rather than seeing him staring at Foster, he found the Jotun looking back at him instead. Their eyes met. Loki tilted his head in a silent question. Thor’s mouth parted slightly.

“Wooooow,” Darcy breathed. Her gaze flitted between the two of them. “Yeah, okay. Guess you are _both_ off of the table, huh?”

Thor finally broke away, turning to Darcy. “We were never on a table,” he said, puzzled.

She wisely nodded her head. “I can see that.”

 

While Foster and Selvig fluttered over the notes, Darcy invited Loki and Thor to head out to a diner for a meal. Loki accepted. It was better to ingratiate Thor with the mortals quickly, and shared meals tended to be a good way to bond. When Darcy went to tell Foster of her plans, Foster unexpectedly jolted from her seat and insisted that she come, as well. “Oh no, we need to talk,” Foster said, looking at Loki with a manic glint in her eye. It was offputting enough that he was nearly relieved when Thor stepped in front of him to attract Foster’s attention, though that sight left a different kind of offputting in his stomach.

They walked as a group from the Foster’s base to the diner. Not very many people lived in this town, but those that did stared unabashedly at them. Loki figured that even mortals as dull as these could appreciate beauty when it appeared before them. Thor, however, seemed confused by the stares.

“Why do they all look this way?” he whispered to Loki. “Are we so strange? I thought I appeared as they do?” He had a line between his brow, a little kink in his skin that showed his inner worry.

“You do look indistinguishable from an Aesir, or a Midgardian,” Loki quietly reassured. Foster, Selvig, and Darcy were walking ahead of them, but as an extra precaution, Loki had dampened the sound of his and Thor’s conversation.

“Then for what reason do they stare, if not for my looks?” Thor self-consciously patted his own face. It was ridiculous enough that Loki grabbed his hand and shoved it down. No one needed to see Thor grope himself.

“It is precisely because of your face,” he said. “Well, and your body.”

Thor stared. He didn’t understand. Loki stared back, and a sudden epiphany struck him.

“You don’t realize?” he asked, but even as he said that, he knew that Thor wouldn’t. If he were outcast from the Jotnar his entire life - but surely someone must have made notes, even passing insinuations, perhaps. It wasn’t as if being slightly small for his race would ruin all of his attractiveness to others of his kind.

But the more Loki thought about it, he realized that he had no concept of Jotun beauty standards. All of the Jotnar he’d seen, other than Thor and himself, were rugged beings of sharp edges and glacial stone. They were not as delicately-featured as the Aesir.

“Realize what?” Thor asked, brow still knit.

“Well,” Loki said. “Well.” He contemplated. He weighed the benefits of telling Thor against those of keeping him ignorant. The last thing he wanted was for Thor to go flaunting his body for all others to touch and possess. This Jotun was something Loki had picked up - he was Loki’s to keep, not for anyone else. Better to keep him ignorant if he could. Yet, eventually, Thor would realize; the longer he spent here in Midgard, the greater chances of someone propositioning him. Jane Foster, most likely. Thor might even become especially beholden to her if she were the first to tell him that he was beautiful. Best to nip that in the bud, then, Loki decided, and he said, “You don’t know, do you? That you’re considered beautiful by Aesir standards.”

This made Thor trip over a crack in the sidewalk.

Loki caught him by the sleeve before Thor could bowl over Darcy and Selvig ahead of them. Thor’s face had turned bright red; he was sputtering a little. He looked at Loki, and within his wide eyes, Loki saw a flash of vulnerability. So that was how it was, Loki thought - Thor was not only outcast, he was considered hideous to his kind, too. What a turn of events.

“Yes, your looks are enough that anyone would lie with you if you so wanted,” he said, neutral, as if stating fact like the color of the sky. “You have this smile, which - well. Very few could resist.” Loki had seen it happen many times, in the past. Thor was an abysmal flirt, really, but he had the confidence and the looks that he only had to smile before everyone fell over trying to climb onto his lap. He turned to this Thor; he looked absolutely gobsmacked by the revelation. Loki raised his eyebrows and said, “I don’t mean to control you in these matters, but I would appreciate if you didn’t use this newfound knowledge to indiscriminately lay with everyone you see.”

Thor gave a strange gurgle. It must be a bit much to grow up thinking you were too ugly to associate with, only to then learn that everyone in an entire town was staring at you because they wanted to fuck you.

Once he’d taken a moment to process, Thor’s face grew an unfamiliar expression of deep embarrassment. “But it’s like this because…” He gestured over his body. “...you made me look this way.”

“I only changed your skin color and shrunk you down a little. Your good looks are entirely due to your natural features. And perhaps a bit of fate,” Loki said. Now he wondered if there were ever a world where Thor was born hideous, or a world where he was pure evil. He couldn’t possibly be a beautiful and born hero in every universe, could he?

Thor replied with another strangled sound. He barely said a single word after that, not even when they’d finally reached the diner. All through the meal, as Foster peppered Loki with questions and Selvig sullenly asked a few of his own, Thor remained uncharacteristically quiet, his face red and his eyes occasionally darting toward Loki.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My headcanon is that Loki is effortlessly seductive. Have you seen those gifs of him on tumblr? I have. All he has to do is look in your direction and your heart beats ten times faster, I swear.


	9. Chapter 9

When Loki was eight, he had learned to shapeshift for the first time. His snake form was easy, and it gave him so many opportunities. Not up for a lesson? Turn into a snake and hide. Tired of listening to someone? Turn into a snake and slither away. Thor being annoying? Turn into a snake and stab him.

It had all been for fun, really. Loki loved the feeling of becoming something else, of shedding his skin and releasing a different form of himself. It was liberating to no longer be Loki, Thor’s younger brother, the second prince of Asgard. He could simply be a snake, green and shiny, and do as any snake would: sunbathe on a rock, or chase after critters, or curl up in a comforting dark corner. Best of all was that Thor always loved when he was a snake. His brother would always pick Loki up and cradle him between his warm, small hands, as if making a nest just for Loki.

He had loved this form so much that there were days where he never wanted to turn back at all. When he had been scolded for making too much mischief, or left behind when Thor went to go play with other children. Especially the days when Father looked at him with that one disappointed eye; and even though Odin never said anything aloud, Loki could always feel the question pressing down around him in the air, like gravity had tripled around Loki and Loki alone until he was suffocating: _why can’t you be as good as your brother?_

It was after one of such moments that Loki spent his longest time shapeshifted. Loki had failed to impress at some event or another, and while Odin praised Thor for his courage or strength or whatever other Thor-esque quality he’d had even at the tender age of eight, Odin had silently weighed his eye upon Loki and said nothing.

Loki was so little that he was not even worth a word. The thought had struck him and churned inside his veins like poison; that night, Loki had curled up, alone in his too-large bed, and wondered if Father would even care if Loki simply did not show up ever again. If Loki were that much of a disappointment to Father, then perhaps it would be better if Loki didn’t exist at all.

No one wanted Loki. No one wanted the second-rate, second-born prince of Asgard. The golden family would be so much better without him, the dark stain, the unwanted one. Loki hated his own skin, so he cast it away, and he let his body melt and mold itself into the familiar and comforting shape. Like this, buried in the covers of his bed, the soft silks gently falling over his scales, he was safe; he did not have to think of anything; he could simply be, feeling the temperature of the air and the gentle caress of his bedsheets.

When the servants came to wake him the next morning, Loki did not answer them. He couldn’t, even if he wanted to; snakes couldn’t talk, after all. So Loki stayed quiet, nestled under a pillow, while the servants frantically pulled off the sheets in search of him. When they found no sign of Loki, they ran out in alarm.

Before they could bring back guards, Loki took the chance to slither out of his room toward the gardens. His mind was already plotting, thinking: he could live out here, in the garden, his bed to be the long grasses and his rooms to be the shade of the bush leaves. He would thrive amongst the flowers and snack on the toads and frogs, and he would get to watch his mother when she passed by to scent the spring blossoms. He could slither to her feet when she sat at her favorite bench, and it would be as if he were sitting next to her, as he always did.

Yes, this would work nicely, Loki thought; he reached the gardens and found a nice damp spot between the roots of a tree, and there he settled. This was to be his new life now, and he was thrilled; no longer would he have to suffer Father’s reticent gaze, or feel that he was lacking in any way! For Loki was an excellent snake, this he knew. He would be the best snake. When Thor trundled this way, as he sometimes did on his way to the training grounds, Loki could sidle toward him. If Loki were feeling impish, then he could snap at Thor’s foot and bare his fangs and open mouth; if he were feeling merry, then he could docilely crawl over Thor until his brother picked him up. Loki would allow himself to be wrapped around Thor like a necklace, carried over his shoulders to accompany his brother on his day’s journey. Thor would be elated to be so close to such a friendly snake, and he would certainly rub a finger over Loki’s head to pet him as a reward.

These were the fantasies that Loki imagined as he spent the next few days in the garden, quietly hiding in the grass and bush. Very few people passed by the garden in those days; it seemed that the main palace was going through a great commotion, and everyone was too harried to enjoy the leisure of the greenery.

Loki was not sure how many days had passed when he stopped caring about the movements of the beings beyond the garden’s reach, or when he started to forget about the plans he had so meticulously imagined. At some point, his days became flashes of light, the thrill of chase, and a full belly, and his nights became cold and the comfort of a dark den. No people passed by to remind him of how it felt to walk on two feet, and slowly those memories slipped away.

The sky stormed often at that time. Loki enjoyed the feeling of the rain on his scales and the humidity of the air. After one long and heavy night of raining, the frogs had come out in droves over the garden. Loki raced out of the grasses, seeking the tastiest-looking morsel; he glided into the open pathways, chasing after his prey. It was when he was nearly upon a rather fat frog that a voice had screeched out, “Prince Loki!”

One of the two-legged beings tried to scoop Loki up in her hands. Loki thrashed, appalled by this creature; he snapped his fangs and bit her harshly on the wrist. The being screamed and dropped him. Loki tried to escape back into the grass but suddenly there were heavy-clattering footsteps around him, and cold, harsh metal wrapped itself around his neck.

Loki writhed and twisted wildly, swinging his body this way and that; but the hold did not break, and he was carried away from his home and out of the garden into the forbidding and enormous maw of the golden beast. It was a long journey, and Loki spend all of his energy trying to free himself. By the time he was passed into the hands of another, he was already too tired to move.

These new hands were much warmer, and much gentler and more comforting. Loki curled, anxious, into those palms; from above, a few drops of warm rain fell, even though the sky could not be seen. The being that held him was very gentle when she brought him closer to her breast, as if trying to either hold him or to shield him from the outside world.

“Oh, Loki, my son,” she said, the rain falling from her eyes.

“Loki!” a voice boomed, and this was one that struck fear into Loki’s spine. He seized, stiff in the woman’s hands. The other being raged closer, sharp and deadly spear in his hand, the one eye pinning Loki like a bug on a display.

There was another being running toward them; this one was small, and golden, and red, and he was also shouting out the name. To this other being, Loki wanted to stretch his neck and fall into his small but sure hands, wanted to be cradled tightly and closely where he knew he would be safe.

But Loki could not do that, for he was in his mother’s hands, and Odin had rounded on Loki with all his fury as the Allfather behind him.

“Loki!” he snapped. “Your tricks have gone on long enough!” He glared balefully at Loki, who was a tightly-woven heap in Frigga’s hands. Odin struck Gungnir to the ground, a sharp and resounding command ringing through the hall. “Turn back into yourself immediately.”

Loki had made himself into a knot; with each moment, his memories were returning, and they were like molten lava searing his insides with pain and despair. Father was so angry with him, even angrier than ever before. Loki Prince-of-Asgard was only ever good for making Father angry. Loki did not want to return to being such a suffering creature, so he curled himself tighter in his mother’s hands in refusal.

Odin glared, his face bright with rage; Thor stood beside him, looking up at Loki in his mother’s hands with tremulous, damp eyes. His mouth opened and moved like he wanted to say something, but didn’t know what to say. Odin did not have the same problem. The next words from the Allfather came snapping out like fangs: “Loki! Return to your Aesir form this instant.” When Loki did not react, Odin hissed. “You continue to disobey me. Listen, child! You have gone on with this long enough. You must become Aesir now, or you risk losing yourself to this form forever. A snake cannot live in society, Loki. It cannot have a room in the royal palace, and cannot feast with us at our dining table. You must be Aesir to remain with us, Loki; otherwise, if you choose to be a snake, then so be it. I shall let you be a snake! And you will live as snakes do: in the wild.” The threats came steadily from Odin, as if they were already official proclamation. Loki shivered in fear, every word like a death sentence. “You shall be cast out from the palace and sent to live in a forest amongst the beasts, no better than a common animal. You will have to sleep in the dirt and eat toads and mice, as all snakes do; you shall never have your fruits, your sweetmeats ever again. You will never get to read your books or play with your knives, and I will forbid Frigga and Thor from visiting you. You will live alone, forgotten and banished from Asgard! If that is what you wish, then so it shall be.”

By the end, Loki shivered so much from fear that he nearly fell from Frigga’s grasp. Frigga caught him, and she began to say, in protest, “My husband--”

But before she could finish her words, thunder struck outside the palace, and Thor rushed forward with a great cry. He snatched Loki from Frigga’s hands and held the snake tightly to his bosom. “No!” Thor backed away, great fat dollops of tears rolling down his cheeks and onto Loki’s scales. “You can’t do that, Father! You can’t take Loki away! He can share my room, and I’ll - I’ll catch him his food and take care of him, I swear I will!”

“Thor,” Odin said, the edge of anger dulling for his favorite son.

“It doesn’t _matter_ if he stays a snake forever,” Thor said. “It doesn’t matter if he’s not Aesir anymore. It doesn’t matter what he is - he’s still my brother! He’s still _Loki!_ So please - please, Father, don’t take Loki away!”

Thor wailed so violently that his entire body shook from the force of it, and he had bent himself forward over Loki as if he could shield the little snake in his arms away from Odin. Loki trembled in his grasp, his brother’s voice falling softly on the core of Loki’s heart. Loki felt his body shift, the snake making way for a boy who desperately clutched at his brother and wept into his shoulder. Thor and Loki clung to each other, bawling, and they spoke over each other, “Don’t go, Loki, don’t go,” and “‘M sorry, ‘m sorry, I don’t wanna leave, Thor--”

Frigga had paced to Odin’s side. She had laid a hand on his arm, and the two of them watched their sons crying together, pleading for Odin to not tear them apart.

The memory of this event was one that Loki had long forgotten, just like the story Thor had told of the time Loki had stabbed him as children. It only now resurfaced, centuries and a life later, in a dream. Loki blinked steadily up at the ceiling, the images of the dream fading over the edge of consciousness. When exactly, Loki mused, did his and Thor’s relationship change? When did they stop feeling as if they could never exist without each other, and when did Loki stop believing in how much Thor had loved him?

Childhood had always been a much simpler time. There was never any need to think much of it. Loki reminded himself of this as he sat up from the bed, the cheap sheets sliding over his lap.

On the other side of the motel room, Thor snored, face half-mashed into a pillow. His golden radiance was softened in the early morning quiet. Loki watched him for a moment. It was a funny thing, how easily he had accommodated to beds and blankets. On Jotunheim, this Thor had slept in the snow like a block of ice dropped into a snow pile. He had never even seen a mattress made of soft material until Loki brought him to Asgard.

 _It does not matter if he is not an Aesir_ , the phantom voice of dreams said; _it does not matter what he is. He is still my brother._

Loki gazed at the sleeping Jotun before him. “So he is,” Loki whispered, to silence.

  
  


Once Thor had awoken, Loki ushered him over to Foster’s laboratory. This was their fifth day on Midgard, and by now, Thor had thoroughly charmed their three Midgardian hosts. Loki kept a careful distance, never straying from purely professional interest; it was Thor who befriended Selvig, Thor who made Foster giggle and smile, and Thor who learned the ways of Midgardian culture from Darcy. The sooner the Midgardians trusted him, the better; that was why Loki grit his teeth and allowed Thor to be swayed into the pace of the Midgardian lifestyle.

Loki was vaguely familiar with Midgard - moreso than Thor, at least - so he had quickly set himself up to begin his research. On his second day here, he had procured a Starkphone from a passerby on the street and used it to access the wealth of all Midgardian knowledge. After that, any time not devoted to correcting Foster on her Bifrost theory was spent researching the current state of Midgard, and whether there were any significant differences to what he remembered. What he found was that the realm was mostly unchanged; its only differences lay in the fact that Thor had not fallen to this realm. The Midgardians remained ignorant of other worlds, all of their problems limited to their own speck of the universe.

To narrow down other details, Loki had searched for information regarding the Avengers and other champions of Midgard, beginning with Stark. He was still the same man as ever, apparently: a playboy billionaire who had a change of heart and ceased his lucrative sale of weapons to move into the clean energy industry. As for more exciting news, only a few months earlier he gotten himself into a fight with a terrorist and a man named Hammer.

Information on Captain Steve Rogers was limited solely to historical accounts; it seemed that he had not yet been revealed to the world. Loki found some mention of Banner in quite a few scientific journals, and more importantly, in several articles detailing the destruction of a borough called Harlem by the hands of two giant men, one of which was rather green and very angry. This sighting had occurred only a month previous. Stephen Strange, that blasted half-bit sorcerer, was only an ordinary healer at this point in time.

There was no tangible information on SHIELD. Of course there wasn’t. He could not find any information regarding Natasha Romanoff or Clint Barton, either. The internet was a publicly accessible resource, after all; an organization of secrets would not make itself known through this database, though Loki had figured he might as well try.

  
  


On this morning, Loki sat on a couch in the laboratory. He had been browsing the internet on the Starkphone when Thor came up to him, beaming.

“Loki! Darcy has invited us to feast at the diner. Shall we?”

Loki looked up from where he had been studying a map. He turned off the Starkphone screen and stood, an easy smile on his face. “I’m afraid I can’t join you this time. Duty calls.” Thor’s face fell.

“You are returning to Asgard?”

“Simply doing a quick look-around,” Loki reassured. “I will return shortly. It should not take longer than a few hours.”

This appeased Thor. He wandered off to inform the Midgardians of Loki’s decision; the minute he was out of sight, Loki turned and stepped through the world.

Midgard was at the center of Yggdrasil, and many paths and branches connected through here. Loki traced the path which led closest to his destination, and he wandered along the rift roads until he stepped out onto a beach, where a tall metal building rose out of the coast.

It was far too easy, truly; the top-secret location of SHIELD’s repository had easily left the Hawk’s mouth and into Loki’s ear, in the previous world. Now, all Loki had to do was walk in. With Gungnir in hand, not a single soul noticed Loki glide through the doors and pass them on his way into the elevator and up, up, to the most secure floors.

At one of the higher floors of the building known as ‘the Fridge’, Loki exited the elevators to a nondescript hallway. He walked down and stopped at one of the walls; here, he turned and passed through the wall and into the secret path which led to the hidden artifacts and treasures SHIELD had collected.

Though Loki did not know the exact location of the Tesseract, he reached out with his seidr and searched for anything that resonated with him. He found several curious objects, but only one had the same deep power as the Space Stone Loki had held multiple times before. Loki navigated his way there, passing by the odd SHIELD agent and guard along the way. He took his time peeking through whichever rooms he fancied; some of them were research stations where the SHIELD scientists attempted to study the artifacts, while others seemed to be offices.

The room which housed the Tesseract was located deep within the premises, in an area which held many vaults. It was simple enough to bypass heavy metal vault doors such as these: Loki simply had to tap the door with Gungnir and convert the metal to a substance he could easily pass through. Thus, he was in.

The Tesseract awaited him on a pedestal. Loki knew enough about Midgardian security measures to know that the room and pedestal were rigged to sound alarms at any change, but, well, they weren’t expecting a millennium-old god to break into their facility.

Loki pulled a glove over his right hand, then withdrew from his pocket the pouch Thor had retrieved from Jotunheim. Loki reached into the pouch and pulled out a chunk of glowing blue ice - ice which had been touched by the Casket of Ancient Winters, and held a fragment of its essence. He used his seidr to carve the ice into a cube, and added a few threads of glamour until it was an exact replica of the Tesseract.

From there, he touched the cube against the Tesseract, and willed the Space Stone to act; in an instant, the two cubes switched. The cube of ice sat on the pedestal while Loki pocketed the Tesseract.

That was one infinity stone secured. If only the others would be so easy.

Loki walked out of the vault with no one the wiser. The Midgardians would not realize the Tesseract had been switched for quite some time yet, or not at all, Loki hoped. They had not yet begun any research on its properties, and perhaps its current frosty state could be attributed to how the cube had been lost in the far frozen reaches of Midgard for nearly a century.

Loki went ahead and wandered through any other vault doors which caught his fancy. The Midgardians had collected a rather esoteric set of knick-knacks from around the universe, but none seemed ultimately worth taking. A pity.

It was as Loki wandered back through the halls and passed one of the offices that a commotion caught his ear: several beeping sounds went off at once. Loki peered into the office and saw several agents pull out their devices at once, checking the screens. “What the hell,” one of them said, and tapped swiftly a computer keyboard. In seconds, a video had been brought up. It was seemingly being streamed live.

 _“Check it out!”_ came a tinny voice from the machine. _“It’s crazy - there’s ice everywhere--”_

Loki nearly dropped Gungnir. The video screen showed Puente Antiguo, and more specifically, the area just around the corner of Foster’s laboratory, from which emanated spikes and sheets of ice.

Stomach falling to his feet, Loki reached into his pocket, grabbed the Tesseract, and lurched himself back to Puente Antiguo. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he heard the roar: _“Return Jane’s things!”_ and the crackle of ice forming into spikes. Facing the brunt of the attack was the rather conspicuously inconspicuous white van, behind which were sheltered several men and women in black suits and ties.

“Well, well,” Loki muttered under his breath, mouth pulling up into a sneer. “I steal from you, you steal from me. Fancy that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? Themes? I don't know what you mean :)  
> By the way - you can find me on [tumblr](https://wisterings.tumblr.com/)! I post fanart and ficlets (some of the nsfw variety), but mainly I just squeal over Thorki<3  
> 


	10. Chapter 10

The SHIELD agent named Phil Coulson was among the Midgardians huddling behind the van, which had a front entirely encased on ice. Thor was certainly none too pleased, it seemed - though he had enough control to leave intact the rear end of the vehicle, which was half-open to reveal a clutter of machinery and boxes belonging to Foster.

“Thor,” Loki muttered, projecting the thought across the distance and toward the Jotun in the laboratory, “Stop.”

The growth of the ice spikes ceased. Loki stood for a moment on the sidewalk, considering; the Midgardians behind him were using their Starkphones to record this event. The SHIELD agent, noticing that the sound of crackling ice had ceased, were shuffling, ready to regroup.

Loki’s seidr brought him the sound of Thor’s voice. _“Loki? Where are you?”_

“Outside. Stay where you are.”

Loki strode closer to the laboratory and to the van. The SHIELD agents had risen to their feet, and they quickly noticed his approach.

“Quite a chilly day, isn’t it?” Loki greeted. He stopped a short distance away and smiled; the agents looked at him with carefully blank faces. Loki rapped his cane on the open rear door of the van. “I do believe this belongs to my colleague. We will be taking this back, if you don’t mind.”

The agents shifted on their feet; they were too well-trained to turn their heads toward their leader for direction, but Agent Coulson stepped forward anyway. He placed himself at the head of the group, his hands held behind his back, and he was as placid as ever when he said, “I’m afraid we can’t allow you to do that.”

Loki just tilted his head and smiled.

The silence worked better than words. The agents were unsettled, not knowing just what they had stepped into. They must be wondering what it was that Thor had done, and what it was that Loki would do.

But Loki was not here to start a fight. So he said, “That’s a shame,” and he stepped away. Coulson blinked once, the biggest show of surprise he would allow himself. He watched Loki like a hawk as Loki walked to the laboratory, as peacefully and nonchalantly as if nothing had happened.

“That’s it? You’re just going to walk away?”

Loki paused. He turned slowly; Coulson’s stance looked as unassuming as ever, but the agents, who had rounded the van and stepped along the edges of the now-melting ice, held their bodies tensely to ready themselves for any incoming assault.

“Should I not?” Loki asked, pleasantly.

It was then that one of the agents noticed. “Sir!”

Coulson followed the agent’s wide gaze. He peered into the large windows of the laboratory. _“What.”_ Agent Coulson spun around, checking the inside of the van. It was now entirely empty.

In the laboratory, Foster and Darcy hastily huddled around the boxes and equipment which had suddenly appeared in the middle of the room.

Coulson turned back to Loki, a slight strain in his voice: “How did you do that?”

“Why don’t we have a chat,” Loki said. “Away from prying eyes.” He motioned his head toward the side of the street, where a crowd had gathered.

Coulson considered him. After a moment, he nodded.

 

“Here.”

Thor roughly set down a glass of water on the table, then moved to stand behind Loki. Loki and Coulson sat across from each other at a table. Jane, Selvig, and Darcy had been shepherded to sit a ways away in the common room, a few agents standing around to watch them. Thor, hovering over Loki’s shoulder, glared with his arms crossed and muscles bulging. The Aesir glamour remained in effect, but the air around him was sharply chilled.

Coulson sat alone on his end, and two agents stood behind him. The rest of the agents had dispersed to deal with the crowd and stop the spread of the day’s events.

“I believe introductions are in order,” Loki said, hands folded elegantly in front of him. “Tell us about yourself.”

Coulson left the glass of water untouched. He blinked placidly at Loki from across the table. “You can call me Coulson. I work for the U.S. government.”

“And you can call me Loki. An ordinary researcher.”

“Whatever you did wasn’t ordinary.”

“And what you do is not for the government.”

Coulson blinked with only the slightest pause. He smiled. “You’re mistaken. I do work for the government. I’m a part of--” He was reaching for the badge in his pocket, the one which referred to some other branch of an agency that Loki had no care or knowledge of.

“Come now, Agent Coulson.” Loki leaned forward, Coulson’s eyes tracking him. He gave a wide smile, sharp with threat. “We both know that while the government has you on its payroll, what your agency actually does spans far greater distances than just this country.”

“My agency?” Coulson affected ignorance to spur Loki into revealing how much he knew. And oh, Loki knew a great deal.

But he wouldn’t step into that arena just yet. He leaned back. “I’m curious why you’re here, Agent Coulson. I wouldn’t think that Doctor Foster’s study would warrant confiscation. It is innocent enough - why stop her?”

Coulson’s gaze was steady. “We weren’t here for her research. We were here to investigate a breach in our security.”

“Oh?” Loki considered. They could not have known that Loki had stolen the Tesseract, since the agents had been well on their way by the time he arrived at the Fridge. Which meant…

“Someone used a Starkphone to try and google classified information. We wanted to know who it was and how they found out what to ask.”

Loki was quiet.

“I assume that was you.” If Coulson were worse at his poker face, he would likely be smirking.

“I admit, I was unaware that Starkphones tracked the information entered into them.”

“They... don’t. You don’t know how internet works, I’m guessing.”

“I know how to google.”

“Alright. Rule number one of the internet: the government’s always watching what you put in a search engine. Hard to believe you didn’t know that. Where are you from?”

Loki smiled prettily. “Where do you think?”

“ _Loki_. It’s an interesting name. Sounds like you come from a Scandinavian country. Unless it’s a code name, and you’re just a fan of Norse gods.”

“Not that much of a fan,” Loki said.

“Do you have a last name?”

“Odinson.”

“Loki Odinson.” Coulson’s voice was flat. “Like the Norse God of Ingenuity?”

 _“Hm._ Well. Among other things.”

“And who’s your friend behind you?”

“His name is Thor.”

“Is he from Scandinavia, too?”

Loki laughed. He drummed his fingers idly on the back of his other hand; the light caught in his eyes. “Our names did not originate from _Scandinavia_.”

“Then where?”

“Asgard.” And after Thor’s soft grumble behind him, Loki added, “And Jotunheim.”

Coulson reacted a slow blink. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I know where those places are. Are they…”

“They are not of this planet. In fact, they are entirely separate realms. You know them from your myths, your legends. I am of Asgard, the Golden Realm, home of Odin-King the Conqueror who claims to rule the Nine Realms. Thor is of Jotunheim, the land of ice and snow, home to the Frost Giants.” Loki smiled. “We are gods, Agent Coulson. Gods who have descended upon Midgard after a millennium of absence.”

Coulson took this in silently. His expression was as still as a pond, but Loki could see the cogs turning in the man’s mind. He did not believe them, not yet. But he would play along. “And what would a pair of gods be doing on Earth?”

“Observing,” Loki said. “It has been prohibited to interfere in the ways of Midgard for centuries. Your people have been allowed to develop without knowledge of the other realms and of the other forms of life spread throughout the galaxy. You have been protected from invasion and shielded from conquer; where alien forces would have arrived to subject you all to destruction and enslavement, we of Asgard, with our might and our sovereignty, have kept you safe. Yet I fear that Midgard may not be allowed to continue in ignorance for much longer; already your people are seeking ways to cross the galaxies, and one day soon, those from across the galaxies may come to you first. I came here to find those of your realm who would be able to protect your kind when those invaders come, and to aid in the development of technologies which would ultimately benefit your people.”

Coulson folded his hands. “That is… a lot to take in.” He sat in silence for a moment, and when he next spoke, it was in summary: “What I’m hearing is that you’re aliens. You’ve been protecting us from the rest of the universe for a couple thousand years, but now, we might need to be on our own. So you’re here to search for soldiers and help us make weapons.”

“Not soldiers, not weapons. You need heroes and tools. You Midgardians are fragile, breakable creatures; even your finest soldiers are mere toys before those who hail from other realms. Only a select few have the ability to stand against them.”

“And those were the people you were searching for?” Coulson asked. “Tony Stark - Iron Man. Captain America. The Hulk. Two people you shouldn’t know about. And Stephen Strange.”

“Yes. Though not the last; I just thought it was funny that anyone would go to see a surgeon named Doctor Strange.”

Coulson paused for a beat. “Right.” He glanced down at his hands for a second, then raised his eyes again with a carefully neutral expression. “So you think the people who can defend our planet are a genius billionaire, a science experiment gone wrong, and a national hero who’s been gone for seventy years?”

“They’re as good as any.”

“Hmm. Stark, maybe. The Hulk - well, he’s strong, I’ll give you that. Cap would have been a great addition, if he were around. I suppose your choices aren’t too bad.”

Considering they were SHIELD’s choices, not Loki’s, he merely shrugged a shoulder. What was more significant here was how Coulson thought he was so sneakily fishing for information. “I see that I know something you don’t,” Loki said, dangling the words; Coulson’s eyes flickered wide for a fraction of a second. His weight shifted slightly in his chair.

“What’s that?”

“You haven’t found the Captain yet?” he asked innocently. “Poor thing. He must be so cold.”

Coulson was silent. A big, fat grin spread over Loki’s face; moments later, Coulson coughed and rearranged his hands. “So, you’re… from another planet, you said. How do you know all of this?”

“Are you wondering…” Loki leaned forward. “...how I know about SHIELD?” He smirked. “I’m afraid that will be a secret. As for the others - your media covers them all very well. Why your people desire to know that Stark was spotted purchasing a bagel at a certain shop in the mornings, I wouldn’t understand.”

“Alright,” Coulson accepted. “Then how can I trust that you are who you say you are?”

“Do you want a demonstration?” Loki asked.

“Loki--” Thor stepped forward, now. Loki turned; Thor’s brows were furrowed in worry. “Our friends, they do not know. If we…” He looked over to where Foster, Selvig, and Darcy sat uncomfortably in their chairs, circled by the SHIELD agents standing around the room. The Selvig and Foster were muttering to themselves, while Darcy had her arms crossed, glaring at the SHIELD agents.

“Thor, you’ve frozen the entire street in front of them. If they didn’t suspect _something..._ ”

“But--” Thor looked down at his feet.

Loki sighed. He turned to Coulson. “May we invite our friends to join this conversation? They may like a word of warning.”

“Sure,” Coulson granted. He looked back and motioned to one of the SHIELD agents behind him, who peeled off to speak with the other agents and escort Foster, Selvig, and Darcy to the table.

“Loki?” Foster was trying her best to keep herself together, but the reedy anxiety in her voice betrayed her true state. “What’s going on?”

“I’m afraid we haven’t been entirely honest with you,” Loki said.

“What? Are you - are you in some kind of trouble with the government? Are you working _for_ them? What--?”

“Jane,” Selvig cut in, quietly. His gaze on Loki and Thor was piercing. “Let him talk.”

It was Thor who spoke first. “My friends,” he said, face and voice solemn. “What you will soon learn may be shocking to you. But I swear that we have always been sincere in our friendship. It is as the movie you have shown me, Darcy. ‘We come in peace’, and we are your allies.”

“Wow,” Darcy said, “you’re, uh, you’re kind of scaring me, big guy. Does this have something to do with that winter wonderland stuff you just did?”

Thor ducked his head. He was deferring to Loki, now. Loki addressed his next words to Foster. “Your study of the bridge - the Einstein-Rosen bridge, as you call it - involves a number of different, world-changing implications. Did you ever wonder if your people were not the first to study such a phenomenon, that if another civilization had discovered it and, indeed, mastered it, if they would be able to use that technology to transport themselves across entire galaxies and over the universe, if they so wished?”

Foster was staring at him bug-eyed, now. “Loki…” Her voice teetered on warning and hope. “Are you saying…”

“You’ve wondered how I know so much about the bridge,” Loki said. “And it seems that I must now tell you why. We call it the Bifrost where I am from. The rainbow bridge.”

“No.” Selvig shook his head, mouth set. “That’s impossible. The Bifrost - it’s something from myths and legends. You’re mad, Loki. Mad enough to take on the name of an old Norse deity.”

“I didn’t take on his name,” Loki murmured. “I am him.” He stood from his chair, cane in hand. He tapped it on the ground, and the seidr swept over him, changing his appearance. The Midgardian suit made way for the leathers and golden armor; the cane grew into Gungnir; the helmet shaped itself onto his head, its horns curving tall toward the skies. When the green seidr at last had traced over his entire form, he was left resplendent in the ceremonial armor, his green cape trailing behind him. He addressed to the Midgardians before him, “I am Loki. Son of Odin. Prince of Asgard, heir to the throne, and current Regent.”

They gaped at the sight of him; they had never before seen seidr, never seen anything that even came close to the golden radiance of Asgard.

Thor took a step forward, standing to Loki’s side in solidarity. Loki turned his head to look at him; Thor’s eyes were somber with gravity as he held out his arm for Loki to touch. Loki did so, and released the glamour holding Thor in his Aesir form.

As the wave of seidr washed over him, Thor grew. His body rose and expanded, bringing him over a head taller; his peach skin made way for a rich blue; lines swept down his now-exposed arms and chest. His Midgardian clothes were stowed away, and the Jotun furs and pants surfaced on his skin. His eyes, red like cherries, looked out from the unchanged beauty of his now-blue face.

“And I am Thor of the realm of Jotunheim,” he said. “Friend and companion of Loki.”

If the Midgardians were surprised to see Loki, they were absolutely stunned at the sight of Thor.

“Oh my god,” Darcy breathed, as Foster muttered the same words. “You’re _aliens.”_

Foster, wide-eyed, took a few steps closer to Thor, her hands held forward like she wanted to reach out. “You’re - oh my god, I can’t believe it. You’re really from a, another planet? You’re - you’re from another civilization, one that has - armor, and magic, and uses an Einstein-Rosen bridge?”

The more she spoke, the more ecstatic she became. There was no more fear in her eyes; she looked up at Thor, absolutely elated.

Thor smiled back down at her. “I did tell you that I came from a place you wouldn’t know. One that is made of ice and snow, where the mountains rise in all directions and the stars light the skies.”

“Yeah, but I thought you were talking about - I don’t know, Siberia. Not another planet.”

“Also,” Loki cut in archly, before Foster could actually start rubbing her hands over Thor’s rippling abdomen, “the civilization you’re talking about is where I come from. Asgard. The Golden Realm.”

“Oh! Yes!” Foster now turned that brilliant and shiny gaze on Loki, advancing on him with no need for propriety or for her own safety. “You need to tell me everything you know. You can’t get away with just hints and equations, not now that I know you’ve actually seen one! You’ve gone through one! You need to tell me what was it like, how it works, how the bridge is built, how--”

“Perhaps another time, Jane,” Thor said, setting an enormous hand on her shoulder and pulling her away, with rather good timing - any closer and Loki would have felt pressed to stab her for breathing the same air he did.

“So, do you believe me now?” Loki asked Coulson, who had also stood and was looking with open shock at them.

“I might,” the man said, eyeing Thor and his positively foreign appearance. “You said you’re here to protect Earth, right?”

“Yes,” Loki said. “So if you ever find yourselves in a situation where you need protecting, well. We may be able to lend a hand. For now, though, I believe Thor and I will wish to remain here, peacefully. If our hosts would be so inclined to allow us?”

“Yes, definitely,” Jane said, still jittery with excitement. Selvig beside her was mute with shock and the possible reconfiguration of his entire worldview.

 _“Alien space vikings,”_ was Darcy’s only contribution, as she reached into her pocket for her phone to snap a picture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is like, all dialogue. Sorry!!  
> Next chapter we will get much more action and possibly new introductions, if I can swing it.


	11. Chapter 11

They stayed on Midgard only as long as it took to settle their shaken acquaintance with the Midgardians. In truth, Loki’s business here was settled: the Tesseract was in his grasp, and Foster was well on her way in the study of the Bifrost. SHIELD was now aware the existence of realms beyond their own, though whether they believed Loki’s claims to be true remained unknown. 

SHIELD continued to monitor them, though there was nothing much to see; the daily routine of Foster’s laboratory continued despite the new knowledge that two aliens stood among them. Loki fielded Foster’s questions on Bifrost theory while Thor regaled the Midgardians with tales of his journeys through the realms. Darcy took it upon herself to educate Thor on the wonders of Midgardian technology and culture, and Selvig solemnly inquired Loki over the accuracy of several Norse myths.

The end of their time on Midgard came out of necessity. Odin had spent several months in the Odinsleep, his rest peaceful and long without any of the stress Loki had induced in the previous world. The Allfather would soon awaken, and that meant that Loki would have to return to his post in Asgard.

Thor, naturally, would have to return with him.

When Loki broached the subject, it was with delicacy; he did not want to hear Thor mourn the loss of his friends on Midgard, or worse, ask if he could stay behind to remain with Foster. What actually happened was nothing of the sort, however; when Loki mentioned that they must soon return to Asgard, Thor beamed. 

“Excellent!” he said. “I’ve been wondering when we would return.”

“You… have,” Loki asked, in a half-question. A memory surfaced of Thor standing by Foster’s side, holding her close; Loki, forgotten, could only watch his brother from a distance. Until he opened his mouth to tear them apart, that is.

“Yes,” this Thor said, and his eyes rested warm on Loki as if they were at home there. “I have not spent much time on Asgard, you realize. You sent me off to quest on other realms shortly after you were made regent. I would like to spend more time exploring your realm - and,” he said, hesitatingly, “if possible, with you beside me. Like on the day I first arrived.”

Loki stared. A bittersweet feeling welled in his chest.

When was the last time Thor had wished to spend time with Loki? Before Loki’s fall, Thor had been so self-absorbed, chasing pleasures and valor, often treating Loki as if he were no more than another lackey among the horde of his followers. And after - everything was a mess, then. By the end, in the Ark, Thor and Loki had been together out of necessity, more than anything. They were all they had left of their family, and they were two rulers, besides; they needed to speak together, to work together, to lead their people. Thor sought him out often, as much as Loki sought out Thor, but they did not speak of the past. They often stood in each other’s company, gazing out into the stars, and whatever words passed between them were meaningless. It was only the act of being beside each other that mattered. “So eager for my company?” was all Loki said, in the end.

“Yes,” Thor said, and he turned his brilliant, unknowing and sincere eyes on Loki. Loki’s tongue felt like it was stuck at the roof of his mouth. Thor continued, “In truth… I know how to be alone. I have spent centuries on my own, and I am learning, through our Midgardian companions and our friends the Warriors Three and Lady Sif, how to be among others. There are days I long to return to my solitude, to the time where I was nothing among the snow, an emptiness in the ice. On those days, I think of you. I think of our journey through my homeland. You infuriated me. You grated, you pushed, you whined so often about the cold and needing a cave to sleep in… and I had never felt more alive than when you were beside me. The day you showed me Asgard was the happiest day of my life. Perhaps I am greedy to wish for more days such as those.” Thor lowered his head. He stared down at his clasped hands. “Forgive me. I spoke out of turn. You are a prince, and I am only... I apologize.”

“No.” His throat clenching, Loki reached out and laid his hands atop Thor’s. Thor’s clasped hands were held in a punishing grip, the veins prominent and knuckles white like he would tear his own skin. Loki pried those hands apart and grasped the backs of them. They were cold to the touch; Loki’s glamour could not completely change Thor’s physique. “If you wish for my time, then it is yours.”

Thor inhaled when Loki touched him; he held his breath even now, gazing down at their connected hands. 

“When we return to Asgard,” Loki said, and paused. By some instinct, he released the hold of his seidr over Thor; the man before him grew, blue skin settling over tan, his height and girth expanding. His blue hands were nearly double the size of Loki’s, but Loki grasped them regardless.

This was the Thor that Loki spoke to. The lonely Jotun, the outcast. 

His brother, the golden prince of Asgard, had always been turned forward, facing the sun. Loki had feared that he, standing in the shadows, would fade from Thor’s sight and be forgotten in the darkness. 

Yet to this Thor - the Jotun Thor - Loki was the sun to whom he was always turned.

“When we return to Asgard, we shall go see a play,” Loki said. “You’ll hate it. It will bore you to death, and you will wonder at the dramatics when everything could be solved with a simple blunt talk or the bash of a hammer. But I will enjoy it a great deal, and I will be sure to whisper to you enough scathing criticism to keep you entertained.”

“I’d like that,” Thor said, voice small despite the largeness of his body, his fingers curling around Loki’s.

  
  
  


After having one last breakfast together at the diner, they said their goodbyes to their Midgardian friends that morning. Foster was kind enough to offer to drive them out into the desert, where they could summon the Bifrost unseen; the fact that she had piled her research and observational equipment into the back was the only hint of her ulterior motivation. Loki accepted, and the entire group gathered in the RV. They rode out into the desert, a group of SHIELD agents discreetly monitoring them. No doubt the entire area was under surveillance.

Loki and Thor stood side-by-side in the desert, watching Foster set up her machines. 

“Should I expect any last minute goodbyes?” Loki asked.

“Should you?” Thor returned. 

Loki’s eyes flickered toward Thor. Thor was staring at Loki, calm and content, and when their gazes met, Thor smiled. The bottoms of his eyes scrunched with sincere happiness, the familiar squint of them making Loki’s heart twist. Loki looked away. Foster in the distance didn’t seem to have any concern that Thor or Loki were about to leave; in fact, she rather seemed impatient for them to go.

“Hey, wait!” 

Thor and Loki both turned their heads at the sound of Darcy’s shout. She waved at them from the RV, one of her hands clutching a colorfully-patterned blue book bound with spiraling wire to her chest. 

Thor let out a noise of surprise. He rushed over to meet her. Darcy handed him the book, a teasing grin on her face; Thor’s face was beet-red as he ducked his head. 

He slunk back to the Bifrost spot under Loki’s intense glare. Loki’s gaze flickered to the book, which Thor had clutched to his chest and, after a moment, tried to stuff behind his jacket as if that could hide its existence from Loki’s sight.

“It’s, um,” Thor mumbled, digging the toes of his boots into the sand, “some of my notes. From Midgard.”

“You gathered notes?”

“About the things that stood out to me, yes.”

That Thor would actually be so diligent in studying anything, even something as banal as Midgardian culture, was a surprise to hear. Loki knew, of course, that Thor wasn’t telling the whole truth. But he would allow this to pass, if only because the Thor looked as if he would combust should Loki ask to view the contents of his journal. 

A SHIELD caravan of black vehicles surged over the horizon just as Loki raised Gungnir to the sky. In an instant, the Bifrost’s light engulfed the area, and Thor and Loki traveled the rainbow bridge back to the realm of Asgard.

  
  
  
  


All was well in the golden realm. The Allfather yet rested, Frigga by his side. The vendors in the market harked their wares; the guards patrolled at ease; children ran about and warriors wandered, discussing their next quests amongst themselves. 

In the Observatory, Heimdall welcomed them back with a dip of his head. “Any news?” Loki asked.

“None which require your attention,” Heimdall said.

Loki nodded. He reached for his seidr and adjusted his and Thor’s Midgardian glamours, tweaking the spell to reshape their garments to Asgardian fashion and weave new features over their faces. Thor blinked at Loki’s new image - enough similarity to be familiar, but enough difference that no one would recognize him as the prince. He had drawn the same effect over Thor, though given that Thor was in Aesir form rather than Jotun, it was likely that no one would have recognized him regardless.

“Well then,” Loki said. His voice, at least, was his own. “Shall we go to see which plays are being performed?”

“Aye,” Thor said, a smile stretching over his mouth.

They spent the rest of the day wandering Asgard. The play performed that day was the tale of Sigurd and the Dragon: Thor watched with furrowed brow as Regin, a tutor, goaded Prince Sigurd to journey and slay the dragon Fafnir, and when the actor launched into the whole simultaneously dull yet convoluted tale of how Fafnir came to be, Loki leaned over to whisper into Thor’s ear. Thor let out a snort in the middle of Regin’s anguished speech, and whenever Loki next murmured comments under his breath, Thor shook with the strain of choking down his laughter. 

After, they took their meal at a tavern. They whiled away the rest of the daylight hours along Asgard’s streets, simply walking and enjoying the sight of the city. Thor was amazed anew at Asgard’s intricacies, from the shape and carving of its arched bridges to the set of the stones in the ground. He marveled at the floating structures and the cascading waterfalls, and the flowers especially drew his attention.

“Do you have a favorite?” Thor asked, rubbing the petals of a magenta flowering bush between his fingers.

A memory of sunlight crossed Loki’s mind. It came from their adolescence; Loki and Thor had collapsed in a field, giggling. The setting sun burnished the field in gold, and the tall stalks and grasses waved around them, swayed by the breeze. “Oats,” Loki said.

“Hm,” Thor replied. 

They continued on their way, treading from peaceful gardens to the bustling market. Thor had earned his coin through his quests, and now had the means to purchase what he liked. He flitted about every stall, eyeing each selection with a wondrous yet keen eye. Loki saw now that Thor was not merely admiring the wares; the Jotun analyzed them, observing the state of Asgard through the luxuries available here. Every step beyond Jotunheim taught him something new about the universe, and he squandered not a moment to learn more. 

When he found any particularly curious item or any unknown material, he inquired the seller for information. Whether he understood the explanation or not, Thor absorbed the words, and later, when he moved away from the stall, he might ask Loki to clarify any terms or references that the seller had assumed he would know, as one who appeared Asgardian. 

At one point, a particular store caught Thor’s eye; his back straightened, and he turned to Loki. “Might you wait here? I wish to make a purchase.”

“Certainly,” Loki said. He watched Thor peel away and blend into the crowd. Left alone, Loki settled along the corner of a building, out of the way of the market’s bustle. Long minutes passed, and as time crept by, Loki wondered whether he should seek Thor out. Perhaps the Jotun had gotten himself into trouble of some kind, he thought, but it was at the moment Loki pushed himself off the wall that Thor appeared at the edge of the crowd. He had a bundle cradled in his hands: it looked like a bouquet, of sorts, except that it was comprised entirely of seeded oat stalks.

“Hello,” Thor said, and he was blushing, holding that bundle of oats in his arms, their heavy heads drooping to the floor with the weight of the grain they carried. He held them out to Loki. “The flower store did not stock oats, so I had to follow the directions they gave to find a farmer who sold them, but - here.”

Loki blinked a single time, slow and heavy. He regarded this bouquet made of stalks of grain, then raised his gaze to Thor. The Jotun - for he was Jotun, despite his current Asgardian glamour - did not seem to realize that one did not usually present bouquets made of oats.

Loki reached out his hands and took it anyway. Thor beamed, delighted; Loki turned away his eyes to look down at the heavy oats instead. 

He asked, “Why give me with this?”

“It is customary on Midgard to present a bouquet of favored flowers,” Thor said. “Or so it seemed from the movies Darcy showed me.”

“Ah,” Loki said. His voice was calm, unaffected. “As gifts of appreciation and well-wishes, yes?”

“Among - among other things,” Thor said, words quieting.

Loki rolled one of the stalks of grain between his fingers. He raised his eyes to Thor, whose gaze had fallen to the ground.

“I’m sorry,” Thor said. “I… I was--”

Loki stepped forward and seized Thor’s wrist. “Let’s head back.”

He pulled Thor from the market. They walked, Loki holding the bouquet with one hand, the other attached to Thor’s cool skin. 

“This was a fine day,” Loki said. “I enjoyed myself. How about you?”

Thor was silent for a moment. Then he said, “I enjoyed our time greatly.”

“Good.” 

Loki let go of Thor’s wrist as they approached the palace. He let their glamours melt away - now they were no longer pretending. It was Loki, the prince, who walked with the bundle of oats in his arms, and Thor, the towering frost giant, who trailed behind him. Passing the guards, they stepped through the main hall and onward through the palace.

The throne room was empty of visitors, though the throne itself was occupied. Thor made a sound of surprise; the Loki on the throne smiled at him, almost menacing in his full golden armor and Gungnir in hand. With a snap of Loki’s fingers, the shade on the throne faded. He murmured, “I couldn’t have left the throne empty, of course. To all except the Gatekeeper, I had been here the entire time.”

“So that was why you glamoured us.”

“Yes. It would have been strange to see the Regent-King return from the Bifrost when he should have been sitting on the throne.”

They moved onward to Loki’s wing of the palace, their dual footsteps echoing in the empty halls. At the doors to their chambers they stopped. 

Loki lingered in the hall for only a moment. He forced himself to step forward and open the door to his rooms. Standing just past the threshold of the doorway, he turned; Thor remained in the hall, gazing at him, uncertain.

Perhaps Thor hoped that Loki would invite him in. Loki just smiled, bare corners of his lips upturned. “I must retire for a moment. Thank you for accompanying me today. I expect to see you at the evening meal.” 

The Jotun’s red eyes should not have reminded Loki so much of those of a doe, large and wet. Thor nodded his head, and Loki shut the door.

He stood there in his chambers, silence all around him. The weight of the makeshift bouquet was heavy on his arm. 

A part of him wished to throw it to the ground, set fire to the oats and watch them burn to ash. This was his brother, his mind hissed - his own  _ brother.  _ It did not matter that Thor did not know. They were just as related in this world as they were in the last. 

And the other part of him - 

Loki stared down at the oats.

They had been laying in a field of wild oats and grass, summer nearly upon them. The oat stalks had been flowering, small beige trumpets lined up along the stems. Thor had laughed at something and knit their hands together, and Loki’s palm tingled from the warmth of Thor’s skin. They had stared up at the clouds, the sky stretching out endlessly before them, and thought that the days they would be beside each other would last forever.

Loki wondered who was the one that had let go first.

As Loki traced the bumps of the oat stalks’ grain with his fingertips, he wondered just how tightly he would have held onto that hand, if he had known the pain that would come when they were separated.

  
  
  


When they met again for the evening meal, Loki greeted Thor with a bright smile. He clasped a hand to Thor’s bare upper arm - even with his fingers stretched out, his hand was not even large enough to cover the expanse of Thor’s blue bicep.

“Let us eat, shall we?” Loki said.

They chatted throughout the meal, the conversation light and driven mostly by Loki. Thor remained wary, eyes anxiously flitting to Loki. It was only after Loki said, “Thank you for the bouquet. Did I not tell you how much I enjoy it? I have placed it in a vase for display in my chambers,” that Thor finally relaxed. A wave of happiness swept through his expression, and he ducked his head with a purple flush. 

“I am glad,” Thor said. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) <3  
> Thank you everyone. I'll be replying to comments soon!!  
> Blaming [shineonloki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shineonloki/pseuds/shineonloki) for the oats. I asked her for plausible favorite flowers, she mentioned oats, I ran with it. In flower language they mean "the witching soul of music".


	12. Chapter 12

A few days later, Odin rose from his sleep and resumed his place on the throne. He summoned Loki to his private study shortly after, and had Loki recount notable changes while Odin pored over the accounts and records of the past months. The shifting political climate in Vanaheim after the death of a major noble, the effect of Alfheim’s bountiful harvest on the interrealm market--

“I heard from your mother that there had been a feast,” Odin said, his one eye cast to the documents and records strewn over his desk.

Loki, standing across from the desk with his hands clasped behind his back, said, “There was.”

“Your Jotun champion brought you a frost bison, did he?”

“He did.”

“Hmmm.”

It was an ominous sound. Odin did not explain his thoughts any further, and let Loki stew in the mystery of what exactly that ‘hmmm’ meant. Did Odin know, Loki wondered, a flash of panic in his chest; he opened his mouth to ask, subtly, what the gift of a frost bison from a Jotun might mean, but Odin headed him off.

“He shows a great loyalty to you,” Odin said, setting down his pen. He looked up at Loki with his one eye and clasped his hands in thought. “The frost bison are notoriously hard to kill. It is a great honor to have one presented at a feast. I admit my surprise that your champion has proved himself to be so capable.” Odin tapped a finger on one of the reports on his desk - the one detailing several quests Loki had sent Thor and the Warriors out to conquer. “He toppled the Marauder outpost on Vanaheim and defeated fire demons on Muspelheim; he protected a village from a dragon on Alfheim, and defended against the draugr epidemic on Niflheim. He also assisted with reconstruction on Jotunheim, and escorted a trade mission to Nidavellir. Quite a list of achievements to have been made in less than half a year.”

“Indeed. He’s quite adept to any task.”

“I see now why you had chosen to bring him with you. ‘Tis not always that one can find a man of such strength and valor as well as of honor and loyalty.”

This train of conversation was leading to something. Loki had no solid idea of to what. “Indeed,” Loki said, with as much neutrality as he could muster.

Odin just chuckled. Chuckled, as if the atmosphere between the two of them were light enough to have room for laughter. Perhaps it would have been, for the Loki that had been here before - for the Loki who did not know just how deep Odin’s cruelty could run. “You look afraid, my dear boy,” Odin pointed out. “No need to fret. I trust in your decisions. Your mother, however…” Odin picked up his pen again to scribble notes on a document, leaving Loki to dangle with baited breath until Odin finally continued, in the most casual of voices, “I believe she’s taken your champion for a walk and tea in the gardens.”

“She--” Loki bit his tongue, locking the _what_ before it could slip between his lips. “I see,” he said instead, calm.

“You may go. I’m sure you’d prefer to find them sooner rather than later.” Loki thought he spied a small smirk hidden beneath Odin’s beard.

After a quick bow and a “Thank you, father,” Loki slipped from the room and sped to gardens as quickly as he could without running.

  
  


It was a ridiculous sight, objectively speaking.

Thor and Frigga stood behind a flowering trellis, side-by-side. Lush leaves eruped from the vines that covered the lattice; it looked like an arch made of dark green leaves and brilliantly-blossoming pink roses. The leaves of the vines swayed softly in front of Thor and Frigga’s faces as the two of them murmured in conversation. Thor, enormous and blue, dwarfed the Queen. He stood a head and a half taller than her, and though Frigga was not a small woman, she looked utterly petite next to the largeness of Thor’s body. Objectively, they should have looked ridiculous. The sight made Loki’s heart clench.

His mother’s smile was kind and warm. Thor - born blue-skinned, and having lived his life alone - looked at Frigga as if she had hung the moon. Neither of them knew that in another life, they were mother and son. They did not know that Thor, when he was less than a decade old, would run after Frigga in these very gardens to clutch at the skirt of her gown, babbling about whatever had happened in the day, or asking for stories of magic or of the Valkyries.

Now they were strangers. A simple frost giant standing beside the Queen of Asgard.

They looked comfortable together, the ease of their conversation making them seem like old friends. Loki was glad; the warmth of Frigga’s affection was something that Thor deserved to know.

Loki stepped closer, revealing himself from the shadowed wall of the garden bush. Frigga noticed him first - she looked up and her smile stretched into a pearly grin, her eyes twinkling. Thor followed Frigga’s gaze. When he caught sight of Loki, a radiant smile broke over his face, the light of his expression rising like dawn over the horizon. The both of them together looked as if there was nothing more in the world that could make them happier than Loki being there with them.

“Mother, Thor,” Loki greeted as he approached. “Having a pleasant walk through the gardens, I take it.”

“A lovely day is only made better by sharing it with fine company,” Frigga said. “I’m happy you could join us, my dear. Your father seemed content to lock you with him in the palace.”

“Yes, quite. There was much to discuss. He mentioned I might find you here, whisking away my champion for tea.”

Frigga laughed. “I’m afraid I’ve been caught.” She looked to Thor. “I thought I could use the opportunity to speak to you while he was distracted, but he flew over the moment he found out.” To Loki she said, teasing, “Are you so worried over my speaking with Thor, dear?”

Loki scowled. Frigga acted as if she were vetting a suitor. The insinuation that Loki had rushed here like some whelp afraid to leave his lover alone with his parents made a furious blush rise on his cheeks. His eyes flicked toward Thor instinctually. The Jotun had a clueless smile on his face, likely in response to the happy tone of Frigga’s words. He didn’t understand Frigga’s implication. Small mercies.

“There is no reason in the Nine Realms for me to worry over such a thing, of course,” Loki said. From the wide smile on Frigga’s face, he guessed that he had failed to keep the strain from his voice.

“Would you like for Loki to join us on our walk, Thor?” Frigga asked. Thor took a moment to react; he was busy staring at Loki.

“What? I - oh, yes, I - I would like for the prince to join us, yes.” Frigga tittered with soft laughter.

“Thank you,” Loki drawled.

The Queen lead their walk through the garden, taking them along a path that weaved along trimmed flowering bushes, flowing canals of water, and fountains. “Tell me more of your life on Jotunheim,” Frigga said to Thor. “What happened after Jord caught you sneaking away?”

“She was angrier than I’d ever seen, but more disappointed than anything, I think,” Thor said. Loki’s interest piqued. Who was this ‘Jord’ they were talking about? “I betrayed her trust by lying. She refused to talk to me for days, and I felt so ashamed and sick of myself that I couldn’t bear to tell any more lies ever again.”

“Truly! Did she eventually forgive you?”

“She did, though it took me many days of groveling and obediently doing my chores. She just cuffed me on the head and told me never to do it again, and I didn’t.”

Frigga laughed. “You were a good child, kind and obedient. My boy, on the other hand - why, he’d say with such a sweet mouth that he’d learned his lesson moments before turning right around to cause more mischief.”

Thor and Frigga chuckled together. Loki put on a forced smile as he trailed behind them, his mind churning while they spoke.

After they had gone a round through the garden, Frigga finally said that she must depart. She presented Thor her hand for him to kiss, then swept Loki in a hug before leaving to attend her matters in the palace.

Left alone in the gardens, Thor and Loki did not quite look at each other. Thor pretended to observe some flowering bush whilst peeking at Loki from the corner of his red eyes, his fingers fidgeting with nervousness.

“Shall we take a walk over there?” Loki suggested, already moving. Thor bustled after him eagerly, like a puppy following its master. “This Jord you were talking about...” Loki paused at the side of a small pond. The water shimmered in the sunlight. “Was she your mother?”

“She was the woman who raised me,” Thor said, smiling.

“Oh,” Loki said. He blinked, looking out upon the water. “Tell me about her?”

They stood there in the shade of the trees, plants and leaves swaying around them as Thor began to tell Loki the tale of his childhood.

“Well, if you asked her, Jord would tell you she was only a simple caretaker, and nothing more. In truth, she was the smartest, kindest, and most stubborn Jotun of the entire realm. She had been hired as a caretaker for the King’s youngest son, but in the war, the Asgardian army invaded the palace, and the newborn prince died in the battle. Jord fled the palace to save herself. As she crossed the snowy and barren fields, climbing over ice and glacier to distance herself, she came across a baby abandoned on the ice. That was me,” Thor told.

“Jord could have left me there - she was escaping an invasion, and bringing a babe with her would only make her chances of survival that much more difficult. But she took me, anyway; she said it was because her entire life she had trained to raise a prince, and though I may not be of royal blood, she would raise me to be as strong and as noble as any prince should be.

“She taught me everything I know. How to speak, how to hunt, how to read and write. How to observe the world and look for the good I can do. She taught me how to see the beauty in my realm and how to have pride in our people - even if the both of us were outcasts. Her for abandoning her duties and fleeing the palace to save herself, and me for being a runt.

“We lived by ourselves in a distant corner of Jotunheim. She took care of me, and I took care of her. It was… we were happy. And I am grateful for that. Jotunheim is not an easy place to live, but even with my deformity, she never abandoned me. She always made sure I felt loved. And I…” Thor’s eyes were wet with unshed tears as he stared down into the pond. “I miss her.”

“I’m sorry,” Loki said, voice quiet. He came closer and put a hand on the Jotun’s shoulder. “She sounds like a wonderful woman.”

“She is,” Thor said. “She was.” He sniffled, and though his body was larger than any Aesir’s, he looked small, now. His gaze was distant, unfocused as he said, “She… she had fallen ill, one day.”

There was silence. Loki struggled to find the words to say; he couldn’t think of anything better than platitudes. The only loss he had ever felt was one his brother had shared with him. This was something that belonged to Thor alone. Loki did not know how to grasp this pain, let alone comfort it. But before he could agonize overmuch, Thor raised his head and looked to Loki, and though his eyes still glistened with tears, he smiled all the same.

“Thank you,” he said, soft and earnest. “When I was younger, I hated myself for not being able to save her... When I was older, I hated how no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t save others from suffering the same way I did. But now, with the Casket, they’ll be alright. Soon, the realm will be restored to how it once was. There’ll be enough medicine for everyone, and no one will have to fear that a small illness will take their loved ones away from them.” Thor reached up to grip the hand Loki had placed on his shoulder. “Thank you.”

Loki stared at him distantly, mind abuzz with thoughts. “Of course,” he said.

  
  


It was later, when Loki finally retired to his room to rest, that he finally had a chance to process everything he’d learned.

He had thought that Thor did not have a family. But of course Thor had to have been raised. Someone had to have taught Thor how to survive on Jotunheim. Someone had taught Thor how to speak, to hunt - Thor even knew how to read. Someone must have taught him this.

Loki had never once thought anything of how Thor had been raised. He had just… never considered how the Jotun had become the man he was, righteous and kind, well-spoken and clever. Loki had written it off as fate, as some essence of Thor’s that carried over across any universe.

He had taken one look at the similarities to his brother and thought he already knew everything he needed about the Jotun - because all Loki had wanted from Thor was his own brother. He had been using the Jotun as a substitute this entire time, and had barely bothered to look at the man beneath the shadow of Loki’s brother.

But Thor was his own person.

He was a man who had grown up believing he was hideous and deformed, living alone with only his mother figure in the colds of Jotunheim. He had to watch her waste away from illness, unable to find medicine because all of the herbs had withered. Did Thor walk to every village, desperately knocking on doors and begging for a cure, only for no one to answer him because he was a runt? Did he have to watch the woman who raised him die and feel like he had failed her?

Was that why Thor had risked his own life, that day they met, to find the medicines that would cure that old Jotun woman and the child?

And then Loki had come into his life. Loki had acknowledged him, talked to him as if they were equals. Loki had praised Thor and given him the regard Thor had never received in his entire life. Loki had lured him with an offer he couldn’t resist, and now Thor adored him. Thor adored Loki because Loki had manipulated him with gifts and tricks, and Thor, so desperate for affection, so needy for friendship and companionship, had fallen hook, line, and sinker, not even knowing that Loki had been using him this entire time.

Sitting prone on a chair, Loki looked down at his own hands - pale-skinned, Aesir-blooded. He turned them around, clenching them into fists.

Even though he was Aesir now… why did he still feel like a monster?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof :')  
> I had to split this chapter in half because it was getting too weighty - but in other words, that means the next chapter is 90% written! Hurray!  
> Thank you all for being so patient with this story. As always, kudos/feedback is appreciated!


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